Elspeth's
by ScintillatingTart
Summary: She'd been going it alone so long that she didn't know love until it bit her on the backside. (Modern AU)
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Downton Abbey. It's okay. No one thinks I do.

This is a modern AU. Deal with it.

Elspeth's  
by ScintillatingTart

I:

"Look, Ethel," Elsie said down her mobile as she juggled her bag, trying to get her key into the lock of the shop door, "this is the third time in the last fortnight that I've had to open the shop by myself. I schedule you early for a reason – the rabid caffeine hounds come in as soon as we've opened the doors. I can't handle the morning rush by myself."

"But Elsie… it's my son –"

"It always is," Elsie muttered as she finally got the door opened. "I'm sorry, Ethel, but we're getting to a point where it might be prudent for you to find other employment if you can't commit to three shifts a week. As is, I'll have to call Daisy and see if she can come in this morning – even though it's her day off."

"Elsie, I'm sorry – I didn't mean –"

Elsie chucked her messenger bag onto one of the couches as she shut the door and locked it behind her. "Right, fine – call me when you've gotten things settled with Charlie," she said. "I'll get things started over here and call Daisy. Don't worry your pretty head about it." The sarcasm was fairly dripping from her words. She hadn't even worn shop clothes because she was meant to be having a meeting with the accountant at ten, and god only knew where her nametag was in the mess that was her office. Truth was, their small staff of six was too small – hence the accountant. She needed to shift some things, streamline a few more, and then hire at least three new people.

The days of going it alone were long gone. Elspeth's was popular and gaining steam every day. Once they'd catered the coffee for a couple of big Hollywood movies shot nearby, business had increased even more. She literally had a panic attack every time she sat down to balance the books and pay the taxes on time; she had pills and everything to try and control it.

She turned on the machines, getting the drip coffee makers going first with the six blends on tap for the day, then the milk steamer, the espresso machine, and then she went around checking that all of the sauces were ready, the syrups relatively full so she wouldn't have to lug out the big pump jugs in the middle of the rush, and she opened the register. Not a moment too soon because Beryl was waiting on the other side of the door at 5:30 on the dot with a rolling cart filled to overflowing with baked goods for the morning.

"Hello, love," Beryl said with a cheerful smile. "You look knackered…"

"I closed last night because Thomas had a gig," Elsie said, helping her friend propel the cart into the shop over the edge of the rickety doorframe. "And now I'm opening because of something to do with Ethel's son. I've not even had enough time to prep for this bloody meeting with Joe Burns – god knows I want to full-time contract you out for the baked goods, and it's in the plan, but… I need people, too, and –"

"Els, love, take a deep breath," Beryl said sharply. "You aren't going to be of use to anybody the way you're carrying on lately. I'll call Daisy for you – she can come by a bit later and I'll have a nice eel pie ready for your lunch, okay?"

Elsie ran her hands over her face and inhaled deeply. "I'm beginning to wonder why I ever opened the bloody shop," she mumbled.

"Because you needed something to get you out of the house after your mum died," Beryl commented dryly. "What?" she added defensively. "You asked the stupid question, not me. I've been up since nine in the evening, by the way, so maybe a cup of coffee along with my paycheck might not go amiss."

"It's been ten years," Elsie said tiredly. "Ten years of non-stop penny-pinching to make sure everyone gets paid a fair wage. Ten years of not sleeping. Ten years of pretending to give a damn about everyone else's problems when they suddenly become yours. I need a day off, Beryl."

"You need to get laid," Beryl replied cheerfully as Elsie handed her a cup of coffee.

"Beryl!"

"I'm just being honest, here, Els… you need a big strapping lad to give you a what-for, and then you can pat him on the ass and send him on his way," Beryl said with a grin and a wink. "When was the last time you went out on a date?"

Elsie groaned and started filling the display cases with cakes, scones, and croissants. "Beryl, honestly," she sighed.

"Seriously, when was the last time you went out with someone for fun – not even sexytimes."

"I went with you and Graham to the Olympics opening ceremony –"

"That doesn't count – and that was like three years ago anyway!"

"I haven't had a day off since," Elsie countered in annoyance. "There aren't enough hours in the day, Beryl. You know that just as well as I do – but your bakeshop runs like clockwork and my coffeeshop runs like shit." She frowned and kept back a chocolate-filled croissant for herself. If she had to open, she damn well wanted to eat something beforehand.

Beryl gave her a withering glance. "You need to find someone – or a better vibrator," she commented. "You're far too tense. You haven't been this bloody tense since you were trying to finish your bloody dissertation at uni. And that was god awful, believe you me!"

"I know," Elsie grunted, taking a bite of her purloined treat. "I was kind of there, after all."

"Well, I best get off – Jimmy's not very good for much besides heavy lifting and unlocking the door. I don't know how the cash register completely eludes him, but it bloody does," Beryl sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, love." She glanced at the door and smirked. "Don't look now, but you've already got a line."

"I always do," Elsie said with a tired smile. "You run along – eel pie does sound lovely, Beryl. I'm sorry I'm being ungrateful… and give me just a minute. I owe you a check for this month's baking." She finished her breakfast in one undignified face-cramming mouthful and then went to grab her bag off the sofa as she chewed. The check wasn't in there, but she did need to tuck her bag away in the office before she opened the doors. When she came back from her office, she passed the envelope off to Beryl with a sad look. "I hope we can shuffle everything soon," she said softly.

"You worry too much," Beryl replied in the gently affectionate tone of a long-suffering best friend and roommate. "I am perfectly happy to take a paycheck like the other wankers you've got on the payroll. I know you're good for the goods money every month, Els. I'll see you at dinner – I think we'll have a curry tonight."

Elsie nodded and stifled a yawn. She glanced up at the clock and groaned. "And now I'll have the pissy wankers coming in for their fix," she muttered. "I'll see you later." She kissed Beryl on the cheek and sent her on her way. As soon as the doors were open, she got swamped and pulled up the sleeves of her cashmere sweater so she could get down to business.

* * *

She ended up having to cancel the meeting with Mr. Burns because Daisy had appointments she couldn't cancel to come to work. So Elsie was stuck by herself in the shop till Anna came in at two for the closing shift. Her feet were aching, her back was screaming when she had to refill the vanilla syrup and drag another huge bag of espresso from the storeroom to be ground. Lunch had been fifteen minutes of Beryl manning the register and making a few drinks while Elsie scarfed down her pie and went to the loo. Then she was back in action again.

The perks of operating one's own business were greatly diminished when one was the only person doing anything at all.

There was finally a lull around one o'clock, and Elsie fixed herself a cup of dark roasted Sumatra coffee with a drizzle of lavender syrup and a dash of milk. She sat there, sipping the hot drink and wishing she was anywhere but behind the counter. She almost groaned in protest when the door opened and yet another customer came through.

He came up to the counter and put down his gloves. "I'm sorry that you don't want to be here, but could you do me a favor and make a latte – no syrup – and add an extra shot of espresso, please?"

She lifted an eyebrow at the man. "Yes, sir, right away," Elsie said with an edge of sweetness in her tone that was anything but. "Having a rough day, are we?" she inquired in her best 'the customer is always right, you bloody sodding arsehole' voice.

"I don't see how it's any of your concern," he muttered. "If you must know, I've just come from a funeral. I need fortification to survive the dinner at the family's."

"I'm sorry," Elsie said contritely, hurrying up to steam the milk. She was very careful not to let the milk get overheated and poured it into a cup, making a gentle wave design as she added it to the coffee. "Here you go," she murmured, "on the house. No one should ever have to face a funeral without caffeine."

He blinked and looked down at the mug. "What is this?"

"That's the latte you asked for," she said, biting the inside of her cheek. Latte, no syrup, extra shot of espresso…

"A latte is meant to have more foam," he said, gesturing at the cup.

Something inside her snapped like a rubber band. "If you wanted a Starbucks latte, you should have gone to bloody Starbucks! In the real world, we call those cappuccinos – what you're looking at is a latte. So either shut up and drink it or get out."

"Is that how you talk to a customer?" he snapped. "You ought to be sacked –"

She scowled at him across the counter. He was a big bear of a man, but she was not about to back down – she would hold her ground. "That'll be the bloody day," Elsie snapped. "Now either you drink up or you forget I offered you the hand of friendship on a bad day. There is no in between, sir."

"I want to speak to your manager –"

"Okay then," she replied, going into the back and grabbing her complaint log. She came back and brandished her pen like a weapon in his face across the counter. "What's your name, then –"

"Charles Carson," he grunted. "And where on earth is your manager –"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "She's out."

"The pretty little blonde – Anna, yes…"

Elsie rolled her eyes. "I'll log your complaint, Mr. Carson, and give it to her when she comes in," she muttered.

"My only complaint is that you don't know how to make a proper cup of coffee –"

This time, she couldn't keep the belligerent tic of her jaw from occurring. "All right, then, we'll play it your way," Elsie snapped. Three minutes later, he had his precious cappuccino in hand. "That'll be seven pound fifty."

"Anna never charges me that much –"

"You don't piss her off," Elsie snapped.

The door opened and Anna came in. "Oh, hello, Mr. Carson – how are you today?" she asked cheerfully. "You're a little late, aren't you?"

He tossed money on the counter and scowled at Elsie. "You'd do well to give her the sack," he advised Anna sternly. "She'll never go far."

Anna stared at him blankly as he left, then back at Elsie. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing but me losing my temper," Elsie sighed. "I need to go cook the books, love – can you take over?"

"Let me get my apron on – where's yours, Elsie? Don't tell me you've lost your things again –"

"No, I wasn't anticipating having to work," Elsie sighed tiredly. "I was supposed to have a meeting with the accountant this morning. Clearly, that didn't happen."

"So you took it out on Mr. Carson?" Anna asked, wincing. "He's a nice man, Elsie – he tips very well."

"He tips you very well," Elsie commented dryly. "That's what you mean, isn't it?"

"He's good to Daisy, too," Anna murmured. "You had to have done something dreadful to set him off – did you see his face? It was so red it was purple." She tossed her apron on over her head and pinned her name tag to the front.

"I made him a latte instead of a cappuccino," Elsie muttered. "How was I meant to know?"

Anna snickered a little and said, "Well… he did live in America for a long time. He's used to Starbucks."

"Bloody Starbucks," Elsie mumbled, sniffing.


	2. Chapter 2

II:

Elsie came out of her office in search of another cup of coffee. She'd almost balanced the books, but then the numbers had started swimming before her eyes and even her reading glasses weren't helping. She sighed and danced her way around Anna, who was making ga-ga eyes at a handsome young man as she made his coffee. One cup of Yirgacheffe and a shot of espresso to make a red-eye later, Elsie settled back and took a restorative sip.

"So," Anna said when she'd finished with her customer, "Mr. Carson called. I managed to sort of make things better, I think – at least enough so that he'll be back tomorrow at his usual time. Which is good because Daisy is on then, and he likes Daisy a lot."

"I don't know why you're so bloody worried about that man," Elsie sighed. "I'm not."

Anna bit her lip and made a quiet noise in the back of her throat. "Well, you promoted me to manager, and I'm trying to manage – if you were anyone but the owner, I'd be writing you up," she said quietly. "There's no reason to talk to customers like that – especially him. He's… trying," Anna sighed, "but he's a good man and he loves Daisy and me. He comes in every day and we know what he likes, so we just do it without thinking. I'm sorry – you didn't know."

"It's been a stressful day," Elsie muttered, sipping her coffee.

"Well… I told Mr. Carson that you'd be punished by helping with the ledgers," Anna admitted. "So you have an actual excuse to stay in your office during lunchtime. Besides, he's gotten brand new restaurants closed for less offense than this – we're lucky he's giving us a second chance."

Elsie blinked. "What do you mean?"

Anna hesitated. "Well… I mean… well…"

"Just spit it out," Elsie ordered.

Anna jumped at the tone in her boss's voice and swallowed hard. "Well, Mr. Carson is the senior food and wine editor at the Star Telegraph," she mumbled.

Elsie's ceramic mug hit the ground with a terrifying smash that caught the attention of all the shop patrons. "Oh… oh my god," she breathed in horror.

"Elsie, breathe," Anna ordered brusquely. "Take a deep breath. That's a girl – it's going to be okay. Don't panic. It's all going to be okay… as soon as we clean up that mess." The younger woman gently rubbed Elsie's back and frowned. "Have you taken your meds?"

"Of course I've taken my bloody meds!" Elsie yelped. "My god, Anna, what have I done?"

"Absolutely nothing that can't be undone," Anna assured her in a gentle tone. "Just take a deep breath and let me handle things, Elsie – there's a reason you promoted me, right? Not just a pretty face am I?" she teased.

"No, you're a hell of a lot smarter than I am, clearly," Elsie said, turning to get the broom and dustpan to clean up her shattered mug. "It's just – the shop is everything I have left."

"I know," Anna said. "So let me try to fix things, okay? You lost your temper. It happens. I might make you apologize to Mr. Carson, though. He'd appreciate that."

Elsie sighed and swept stubbornly at the floor. "I'm sure he would," she muttered, "but I wasn't exactly in the wrong. The man is a food and wine editor and he doesn't even know the difference between a latte and a cappuccino. I call shenanigans."

"Oh, he knows the difference," Anna said cheerfully. "It's his thing he does to the new kids – he really doesn't like Ethel or Thomas, so he goes mad on them. He must have thought you were new." She winked at Elsie. "He usually gets the pork and apple pie at Beryl's and his cuppa here and goes back to work to eat his lunch, by the way. He comes in every day but Sunday. He's… exacting… but he's not normally like he was today."

"Sounds like you've become friends," Elsie said with no small amount of irritation.

"No, just… it helps to know your regulars," Anna defended herself. "Now, you ought to get on home, Elsie. I've got this. You need to get some rest."

"I'll rest when I'm dead," Elsie said.

"I mean it," Anna said sharply. "Go home, eat some dinner, put your feet up, and get some sleep, okay? Make sure you take your pills."

"You're my mam now, are you?" Elsie shot back.

"No, but I am concerned," Anna replied. "Come on – go get some rest."

"You're sure you've got this?" Elsie asked, worried.

"I do," Anna assured her. "Go home. Better yet, go out – go get pissed at a pub and take someone home."

Elsie snorted indelicately. "Really?"

"Well, it was worth a try," Anna said with a cheeky grin on her lips.

* * *

The flat was quiet when Elsie let herself in. There was no sign of Beryl, aside from a partially-filled wine glass on the coffee table and the lingering smell of curry and custard in the air. She'd gone to an emergency therapy session after she'd left Anna at the shop, and the therapist had – too gently – advised her of the need to up her meds again.

If it wasn't one thing, it was another.

Elsie went to the kitchen and dished up some paneer tikka masala and rice, wanting to hide away from the world for a bit but too scared to actually do it. She poured herself a glass of Australian malbec and settled in on the sofa.

It seemed ridiculous, her life. Here she was, a fifty-two year old woman with a fifty-six year old flatmate, sharing a dingy flat in London after Beryl's husband had died and Elsie had put everything into Elspeth's and lost her mother's house when the market crashed. She didn't have a boyfriend, she didn't have a lover, she didn't have children, and she didn't have friends. She had staff and she had Beryl. And the cats. But they didn't so much count, really, because they couldn't talk back and share their feelings.

Maybe it was better not to have feelings at all. They only seemed to get in the way.

When she finished eating, she poured herself another glass of wine and turned on the television. It didn't matter what was on: it never did. It was just background noise.

She fell asleep on the couch, her legs tucked under her like a little girl.

* * *

"Good morning, Elsie," Daisy chirped cheerfully as Elsie came into the shop. "Beryl said she's bringing that chicken, corn, and black bean pasty you like so much for lunch."

Elsie nodded and tried not to let on how much her head hurt. The combination of a bottle of wine and the curry had not left her in a very favorable condition. "Sounds delicious," she mumbled. "I'll be in my office if you need me."

"But I need you now," Daisy protested. "We need to talk, Elsie –"

"Please tell me you're not resigning," Elsie sighed. "My poor heart can't take it."

"Well, no," Daisy said, "but I will have to go on leave for a bit this autumn –"

"That's a ways off," Elsie said. "I'll see what we can work out."

"Yeah, well," Daisy murmured, "I, uh… well. William and me, we're having a baby, y'see. And I want to keep working – I love my job and I love the shop. But he wants me to quit and it's not going to happen. But I do want to take some time off when the baby comes."

Elsie smiled a little and said, "Well, congratulations to you both –"

Daisy smiled and blushed. "It's unexpected," she admitted, "but we're happy about it. Did you ever want kids?"

Elsie's smile faded. "No, not really," she said, shrugging a little. "I would have been rubbish at being a mum."

"I think you would've been better than my mum," Daisy commented dryly. She glanced up when the bell rang as a customer came in. "Oh, Mr. Carson – let me get your coffee ready," she called. "That'll be three pound ten."

Elsie wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. It would be far less painful than the combination of her headache and her blood pressure rising at the very thought of Mr. Carson in the shop. She shuffled the invoices from the morning deliveries in her hands and refused to look at him. If she pretended he wasn't there, maybe she could keep the panic at bay for a few minutes.

"Good afternoon, Daisy," Mr. Carson said, his voice booming through the room and echoing in the very walls. "I hope you had good news yesterday –"

"Oh, the very best, Mr. Carson," Daisy agreed with a grin on her lips as she steamed the milk for his coffee. "Me and my William are going to have a baby! How exciting is that? We're over the moon –"

"As you should be, dear," he said in an indulgent manner.

Elsie couldn't stand it any longer; she clutched the invoices to her chest as she turned to go to her office. "Wait!" he called after her, making her stop but not turn. "I… I need to apologize for my behavior yesterday."

She hesitated, but did not waver. "We were both overwrought," Elsie said. "No one was to blame."

"Then we were both to blame."

"Aye, well… so be it," she said quietly.

"At least tell me your name so I might apologize –"

She turned back for a moment, her eyes narrowing at the look on his face. "My name is Elspeth," Elsie said firmly. "And I don't need your apology, Mr. Carson." She stormed into her office and slammed the door shut with a satisfying thud.

She tried to believe that everything would be all right, but her head was pounding far too much for that blind faith to kick in on principle.


	3. Chapter 3

III:

Charles Carson was not a patient man. He could bluster and blunder and rage with the best of them: the reporters in his department knew this all too well. And he had very little patience with himself now.

He'd been sat in front of his computer with a blank Word document open for hours now. He'd begun to type, losing himself in his normal formula of his reviews, then backspaced over the whole thing, deleting the words before they could become concrete. He couldn't possibly be losing his touch, could he?

"Away with the fairies, are we?" came a voice from the doorway.

He glanced up to see Mary Crawley, a wan smile on her lips. She was the senior editor, answering only to her father and grandmother before things went to print, and technically, she was his boss. But she never wielded her authority over him unless his people were underperforming – and now, with the death of her husband, Matthew, she seemed even less inclined to bend him to her will.

"I was trying to write a review for Sunday's edition," he commented dryly, "but I'm having difficulty."

"We can print the one we tabled two weeks ago," Mary said with a tired sigh. "What place are you finding so difficult to review?"

He hesitated a moment. "Elspeth's. It's a coffee shop two blocks down and one over. It's next to The Bake Shop, where I get my lunch every day."

"I've been there," Mary said. "Once. I'm afraid I'm rather more partial to tea than coffee, so coffee shops are lost on me." She smiled a touch, then added, "Besides, you clearly go back to see someone every day – what's her name, Uncle Charles?"

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Not everything is about sex or even about food," Charles muttered. He powered down his computer and looked up at her. "How are you doing, Mary? Really – not just the trotting out of emotions for the sake of others."

She shrugged. "The house is too quiet," she admitted quietly. "I never knew how much I'd miss him walking around, humming."

"I am sorry," Charles said, frowning. "I didn't mean to trouble you more –"

"I suppose I should be glad we weren't together long enough to have children," Mary said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Can you imagine how dreadful that would be? Explaining to a child that their daddy won't ever see them again because he's gone away and won't be coming back? How awful, Uncle Charles."

"Yes," he agreed, only because he could not rightly fathom how she felt. He'd never been so close to anyone that he would mourn them to the extent that Mary mourned Matthew. Admittedly, Matthew had gently molded her into a better woman, smoothed out her edges, took away the rawness, but Charles did not care to understand the finer points of their relationship. It was none of his business, after all, even if he was her godfather.

"Now, really, you must come to dinner with me tonight," Mary said gently. "Granny is ordering in a pizza and Papa is bringing the wine. The intention is to watch something utterly miserable on DVD and get pissed."

"As much fun as that sounds," he said, "I have plans already."

She raised an eyebrow. "I see."

"Don't take that tone with me, young lady," he scolded. "Bathroom cleaning waits for no man."

She wrinkled her nose. "Yes, I suppose you're right," she sighed softly. "Maybe tomorrow, then?"

"Ask me then," he advised, watching her leave.

He didn't want to saddle her with his problems, his inadequacies, anymore than was necessary. She vaguely remembered meeting Alice a couple of times in her childhood, and Charles was grateful Mary had not known his ex-wife well at all. The woman had left him while they were living in America, preferring a banker with a large wad of cash to a writer who pinched every penny to make the mortgage every month. He was incredibly grateful they hadn't had children; what had broken his heart would absolutely have shattered a child. Years of living alone had hardened him to a point where his only actual companion was Lady, his wee Westie.

He really couldn't blame the infamous Elspeth for going off on him or refusing his apology. And he didn't know any way to prove to her that he'd not meant any harm. He genuinely enjoyed her little shop with the mismatched furniture and the low lighting. And he thought that Daisy and Anna would be welcome anywhere with their easy smiles and happy natures. And over the course of two years, he'd seen the beautiful redhead a handful of times, usually teaching new employees how the machines worked or checking in the deliveries. He'd always wondered who she was, and now he knew.

Charles had never written a review for Elspeth's because it was his retreat. Just like he'd never written a review for The Bake Shop because he was loath to share the gem with anyone else.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

* * *

The house was too quiet. Lady was in the back garden, chasing a bird around, yapping like a fiend. As he prepared dinner, Charles usually found himself watching the dog through the back window, finding absolution for his troubled soul in the process. Not tonight. There was too much going on, too many things he could not dwell upon, nor that he could express easily.

Irony was, he was a writer and he could not find the words.

So he made beans on toast and watched his dog playing.

A restaurant critic who couldn't really cook – there was another whole level of irony right there. But he didn't feel like it would behoove him to go out, even for fish and chips.

So beans on toast with a slice of tomato it was.

And maybe he would be able to unravel his thoughts.

* * *

He glanced up to see Mary storming into his office and tossing a folder onto his desk. "I can't print this," she said. "You know that. Why did you put it on my desk?"

Charles looked up at her and sighed. "I need you to print it," he said quietly, "as a favor."

"You have got to be joking," Mary said, her eyes going wide. "We have a very serious publication, Uncle Charles – I don't have to tell you that. My father will have my guts for garters if I let that slip by onto the front page of the food and wine section, for god's sake! And, come to think of it, he'll probably come after you, too. No, we're publishing that place with the lamb that sent you to casualty…"

Charles sighed and looked up at her. "Mary," he said, his normally booming voice very low and restrained, "I owe her an apology; one that she does not want to hear. I know I am a very difficult man to get along with, and I know I am… set in my ways. I am attempting to right a wrong that I committed the day of Matthew's funeral." He looked down at his hands. "I… well, if we can't publish it, I guess we should go with the poisoned lamb."

"If I let this go to print, we'll both look like ridiculous fools," she commented. "And papa will have a thousand fits."

"Your father is prone to fits," Charles pointed out.

Mary hesitated, then nodded. "Well, since the status quo needs… shaking… every so often, we can blame this on my grief," she said quietly. "I'll print it."

Charles swallowed and nodded. "Thank you."

"I hope you know what you're doing," she said, "because we're already in the soup."

* * *

 _Elspeth's is a small coffee shop, with capacity for 30 people at the outset. There is perhaps seating for fifteen at the most, with mismatching sofas, antique chairs, and tables, and the walls are papered with old rose wall coverings from the 1930's. Black and white photos from the Victorian era up to the Blitz hang from the walls in silver frames. The ambiance of the shop is further enhanced by chandelier lighting and the simple austerity of the serving plates and mugs._

 _I have been patronizing Elspeth's nearly every day for the last two years. I prefer my coffee to a standard, and the young women who work the shop during the lunch rush will come to know you over the course of a few visits and treat you as if you are welcome, wanted, and that they are not so much serving you as they are serving their family. I prefer the latte with extra foam; some might call it a cappuccino, but Anna and Daisy merely smile and make it for me without correction of my technique in addressing the drink._

 _The proprietress of Eslpeth's is one Elspeth Hughes, a transplant from Scotland with all the temper and fire of her native land poured into the passion of her shop. In my eyes, there is no greater beauty than seeing her bustling around her shop, focused on her work. It is the true mark of success that she does not take anything for granted: you are just as likely to find her behind the counter making your coffee as you are to see her mucking out the toilets or washing the windows._

 _Elspeth's is a place I would recommend to anyone who needs a personal touch. It is the only coffee shop that I frequent, and will continue to be so for the forseeable future, if I am to be allowed. You see, I have offended Ms. Hughes, and for that, I am deeply ashamed. This review is my penance, and freely given at that._

 _I await your reply with bated breath, Elspeth._


	4. Chapter 4

IV:

"We still have two jugs of vanilla syrup in reserve," Thomas said from inside the store cupboard. "Which means we need to order, what, five for the next week?"

"Seven," Elsie corrected gently, "or we'll short ourselves by Friday, especially with Ethel's special on Saturdays – the vanilla caramel whipped white."

"I forgot about that," Thomas sighed. "Not working Saturdays throws everything off, doesn't it?"

She smiled and marked 10 jugs of vanilla syrup down on her ordering list – it never hurt to be prepared. "How are we looking on the drip blends?"

"Partial bags in progress, and a thirty pound bag of each in reserve," he replied. "But we're low on espresso again. I think we should order ninety pounds this week, since we've been going through it like water."

She didn't want to make him feel smug about having learned to anticipate the shop's needs – FINALLY – after doing inventory with her on groggy Sunday mornings before the church crowds came in for the last six months. He was never really conscious after his late-night Saturdays, if he slept at all between his band's gigs and his coffee shop shift on Sunday. It was a miracle that he retained anything at all. "I agree," she merely said, marking down 3 bags of espresso on the list on her tablet. She'd already put in an order for replacement crockery for what she'd smashed earlier in the week and a new, more stylish design of flatware for the diners in, and now all that was left to tick down the list was a mountain of disposable cups, lids, napkins, and glissade-lined paper bags for the baked goods. "I'll have you doing the Monday order by yourself yet," she promised Thomas. "Now, you look like you could use something to pick yourself up off the ground with. Let me make you something."

"Oh, no, I've got this," Thomas assured her as he came out of the cupboard and closed the door, a wan smile on his lips. "Besides, you might get offended with the amount of espresso I put in my cup."

"If your heart doesn't give out on you," she warned, "you'll at the very least need the loo very badly in short order." She winked and went to check the stash of disposables behind the counter to make sure her counts were still correct in the database.

The door to the shop flew open a few minutes later, the bell pealing loudly. "ELSIE!" Anna cried, and Elsie came up under the counter, hard, nearly knocking herself out on the edge in surprise. Thomas immediately helped steady his boss and hauled her up off the floor. "Oh my god, I'm sorry – are you okay, Elsie?" Anna asked anxiously.

"Only thing hurt is my pride," Elsie mumbled, pressing her hand to her head and closing her eyes. "And my head, but that's hard enough," she added. When she opened her eyes, she merely stared at her manager; the young blonde woman was still in her pajamas, bathrobe, and slippers, looking for all the world like she'd just rolled out of bed and driven over to the shop. She was holding a rolled-up newspaper in her hand and Elsie blinked a couple of times before she said, "What on earth are you doing here, Anna? You're not supposed to work today, and if you were, I'd send you home looking like that."

"Have you seen the Star Telegraph?" Anna asked, her eyes wide and her hair wild.

"Are you still drunk from last night?" Elsie replied, raising an eyebrow. "I've been here since four."

"They did a spread on coffee on the front page this morning," Anna said, holding up her paper, unrolling it and setting it down on the bartop, smoothing out the pages. "And Elspeth's has the review spot above the fold, Elsie." Her eyes were excited and she was fighting back a brilliant smile. "Mr. Carson is very much pleased with your little shop. Very pleased indeed."

Before Elsie could say anything, let alone something uninspiring, Thomas said, "And this made you get up at eight-someodd on Sunday morning, grab your keys and drive to work half-dressed? Anna, sweetheart, did you fall out of bed and hit your head or summat?"

"Oh, shut up, you condescending prick," Anna snapped. "Elsie, read it." She all but jabbed her finger into the counter, wrinkling the paper. "Just do it."

Elsie sighed and put her reading glasses back onto her nose. "All right, all right," she murmured.

It took less than a minute to read the review. By the time she was finished, she was biting her lip in nervous focus – a habit her therapists had been trying to break her of for years. "Well," she said, fighting hard to keep her voice steady and unwavering, "at least he didn't condemn us for my poor behavior."

"Oh my god, you are thick," Anna yelped. "He said you're beautiful, Elsie. Right there –"

Elsie shook her head and sighed. "Anna, no, that's… that's so incredibly not what he said, darling, and even if it was, do you really think that would have any kind of influence on me?" She laughed bitterly, self-depricatingly. "The last man who called me beautiful asked me to marry him; I said no because that's not the life I wanted, and he bloody turned around and married my sister. So… no, a man saying that I'm beautiful is not the be-all, end-all of the world here. But I am chuffed he finds my shop pleasing."

Thomas snickered. "No comment from the gallery," he added unnecessarily.

"No, no, nonononono," Anna said, snatching up the paper and rolling it back up. She soundly thwacked Elsie on the forehead with it like a naughty puppy. "No, you are not going to blow this off or cheapen it," she said firmly. "Mr. Carson does not laud anyone with praise, Elsie, let alone say that a place has his personal stamp of approval – he's done both in the same piece about you and your shop, and, well, you've got to read between the lines, you daft woman!"

Thomas sighed and rolled his eyes. "I need more coffee before this turns into total girly time," he muttered. "And you two need to take it to the office or summat. Thank god we've not got customers right now – they'd think we've all gone barmy."

Elsie sighed and slid her glasses off her nose. "Anna… I'm fairly certain that you're reading entirely too much into the whole thing," she said gently. "He's being very gentlemanly and I will apologize for my bad behavior… I just don't think that there are lines to read between. I'm sure Mr. Carson is a nice man below the surface, but I'm married to my work and even if he did have lines to read between… I'm not certain I should be the one doing the reading."

"Oh my lord, there is no hope for you," Anna groaned. "None at all." She sighed and thrust the paper into Elsie's face. "Fine. Have it your way. There's an email and a Twitter handle in his byline, so the least you can do is say, 'thank you for the lovely review and feel free to come back to my shop at any time, free of charge, because you've done me such a lovely service'." She huffed a little, slammed the paper back down on the counter, and turned to walk away. She was almost out the door when she turned back and said, "You're still thick as, Elsie. And we're talking about hiring people tomorrow when I come in."

"Yes, that I can definitely agree with," Elsie commented with a small smile.

"Tom Branson is back from America now – maybe he'd like to come back," Anna said.

"Who's Tom Branson?" Thomas asked.

"He was my first employee," Elsie murmured finishing her list and submitting it for morning invoicing. "He and his wife met here." She glanced up at Anna and said, "You have his number? Call him for me – see if he'd be interested in coming back."

"Oh, he's already emailed me," Anna said dismissively. "We've been chatting all week. They have a daughter now – Sybbie – and she's ready to go to school now, so Tom's going to have nothing at all to do during the day. I thought since we've had so many problems with Ethel, replacing her with someone dependable would be a good idea. Don't you?"

"Tomorrow – we'll talk about this tomorrow," Elsie insisted. "Go home and put your feet up."

Anna regarded her with an irritated look. "Promise you'll send that email?" she said firmly as she could without being insubordinate.

"I will," Elsie said with a sigh and a shake of the head. "God only knows why."

"Because I know what's good for you." Anna rolled her eyes as Thomas laughed at her.

* * *

 _From: ehughes  
To: charlescarson  
Subject: your Sunday piece_

 _Mr. Carson;_

 _I would like to thank you for your positive review in this morning's paper. It means a lot to be taken seriously as an independent business owner – especially a female business owner. It continues to be difficult to compete with the larger chains and it is nice to be appreciated for the hard work I've put in over the years._

 _I also wish to apologize for my abominable behavior the last few days. I am afraid I've not been myself as of late and I am seeking to rectify the issue. I know it does not excuse the way that I treated you, and I feel horribly that you felt the need to write such a review merely to apologize for something that was not your doing at all. I should be the one to be ashamed, if either of us must be._

 _I hope that you will continue to favor us with your custom, Mr. Carson. If you come into the shop tomorrow, I would like to share my favorite cup with you – it is a lovely bean from Indonesia, lightly roasted. I brew it with cacao nibs and serve it with a dash of cinnamon and a dollop of heavy cream. It is not a cup for the faint of heart, nor the weak of stomach._

 _Tomorrow, then?_

 _E. Hughes  
Elspeth's Coffee_


	5. Chapter 5

V:

Mary came in and sat down in his guest chair. "Well," she said with a sigh, "that went splendidly. Papa thinks I've gone mad, Granny thinks you've gone mad, and the mail server has crashed from all the emails you're getting from lonely women who think they need you to come over and warm their gourmet meals for them."

Charles glanced up from his notes and blinked at her, slowly. "What?"

"You've become an unlikely sex symbol," Mary said. "I suppose it's the romantic nature of your review – she is the one you go to visit at the shop, isn't she?"

"Mary, I'm aghast that you think I am anything less than a gentleman," he huffed.

"Oh, no, I think you're absolutely the consummate perfect gentleman," Mary said, holding up one hand. "But there's a time and a place for such good behavior, Uncle Charles, and when courting a woman – no, don't you give me that look… I know when you're eyeing someone – she needs a little bit of less-than-gentlemanly behavior as well."

"Dear lord, why must you torture me?" Charles groaned, putting his head in his hands. "Nothing is going to happen. The woman thinks I am a pompous fool – and I am."

"Yes, but secretly, she wants you to be her pompous fool," Mary encouraged with a little grin. "Besides, if being good doesn't pay off, you could just go to the shop and ask to see her knickers."

"MARY CRAWLEY!" he shouted, his face going beet red. "What on earth has gotten into you?"

She shrugged. "If I can't be happy, why shouldn't you be? And if this… Ms. Hughes… gets your rocks off, who am I to be displeased with your happiness?"

"There is no bloody happiness because I've made a fool of myself," he said, pointing at the computer. "My email is broken. Twitter has gone ballistic. And if I just… show up at her shop after this, how even do I look her in the eye without flinching?"

Mary fought back a gleeful smile and choked on a giggle. "Oh, Uncle CHARLES, can you even hear the words coming out of your mouth right now? Who would've thought you'd get so worked up over a GIRL?" She settled down, then took a deep breath before she carried off into mirth again. "Oh, I'm sorry – I'm sorry, I don't mean to take the piss, but it's really quite extraordinary!"

"She probably hasn't seen it," he muttered.

Mary cackled in disbelief. "Charles, I bet you a hundred pounds cash that she saw it before ten yesterday morning," she said when she could breathe again. "People tend to get excited when people say good things about their friends."

He frowned. "Well, she hasn't… replied."

"Unless she sent an email," Mary said gravely, "in which case, it's locked on a broken server and you'll not know for hours whether or not she's replied to you, anyway." She stood up and stretched. "Of course… I'm feeling the need for a bit of coffee myself. Fancy a trip to see your fancy lady, Uncle Charles?"

"You are incorrigible and completely mad," he accused with a sigh.

"Oh, I am," she agreed. "And you're really very adorable when you're flustered."

"I refute adorable."

Mary shrugged and winked. "Come on, let's go have a coffee break," she chirped. "I want to meet this woman."

Charles couldn't help but think that Mary meeting Elsie would be a disaster. They were entirely too similar of a temperament to actually get along; they would be at loggerheads all the time. But by the same token, he wanted to see his goddaughter actually engaging with the human race – and she seemed to be trying at least.

"Oh, all right," he sighed. "Fine. We'll go."

He didn't have to like it, though.

* * *

"Well, you'll have to tell me what's good," Mary commented as they waited in line. "Change my mind about coffee, Uncle Charles."

He sighed and said, "Yes, well… coffee is such a personal thing –"

Suddenly, it was their turn in line and Daisy was beaming at him like a ray of sunshine. "Hello, Mr. Carson – you've brought a friend!"

"Uh, yes, this is Mary," Charles said. "I'd like –"

"Elsie left very detailed instructions that you're not to have your usual today," Daisy said as she went to start the cup of coffee. "You're getting the owner's special – would miss Mary like one, as well?"

"I would love that," Mary said, suspiciousness creeping into her tone. "I told you she'd seen it, Uncle Charles. Now, where is she? Shouldn't she be the one –"

"Elsie wanted me to apologize but she won't be in a few days," Daisy said over the noise of the coffee machines. "She's not been well and Beryl had to take her to hospital this morning because she collapsed."

"Oh my word, how dreadful!" Mary cried. "I hope she'll be all right –"

Daisy shrugged a little and said, "Me, too."

Charles couldn't speak from the lump in his throat. He knew he had no right to feel strongly one way or the other about Elspeth Hughes, but he had entertained such silly notions in his head about dancing slowly with her on his back patio in the moonlight, taking her to his favorite restaurants, kissing her – oh, god, now what? She would discourage him with all the fire of a dragon, and why not? It wasn't as if he had ever been brave enough to come forward to her at all.

"What hospital?" he finally managed to say.

Daisy's smile vanished. "What?"

"What hospital is she in?"

"University College," Daisy said. "It's closest to her flat."

Daisy finished the drinks and passed them over the counter. "They're on the house," she said quietly. "I hope – I hope you'll be coming back even with Elsie gone," she added. "I mean… everyone's read your review. I… I hope I haven't overstepped."

"No, you absolutely haven't," Mary assured her. "Has she, Uncle Charles?"

"No, you haven't," Charles echoed, still halfway lost in his thoughts. "Thank you, Daisy –"

"She'll be fine," Daisy tried to assure them all. "She's a tough old bird – she'll be back in a few days and better than ever."

Charles nodded. "University College?" he repeated.

Daisy nodded. "Room 5518. But I didn't tell you that and if tortured, I will deny all knowledge. But, I mean, I read the thing. And you… you care, Mr. Carson." She smiled sadly. "Now, get out and let me get on with the lines."

Charles felt Mary take his arm as they walked back to the office. "You should absolutely send flowers," Mary said. "God knows –"

He didn't reply, just took a sip of his coffee. It was rich, decadent, well-balanced, spicy and gently acidic with a delightful undercurrent of cocoa and cream. And all he could think of was how perfectly it matched the woman who had created it.

* * *

He finished arranging the flowers in the vase and stood back to make sure it didn't look like a right mess before he went to the hospital. His neighbor – who had helped him many times in the past with things like this because he was god-blessedly clueless – had offered him some beautiful flowers from her garden, including yellow and white roses and lovely greens, and he could only hope that they would be accepted in the manner he intended them to be presented.

And what exactly was the manner he intended? If he had to be honest with himself, he was infatuated with Elspeth Hughes. He was enchanted by her beauty and her grace, and he could easily fall in love with her sparkling blue eyes – whether they were flashing anger or gentle mirth. The rest of it, the fantasies and the sexual aspects and… he loosened his tie and grunted. This is what happened to a man left to his own devices, simmering. He didn't care for affection or love, really – not after what Alice had done. Mary was the outside edge of things, and he didn't care to overtly express anything to anyone. And the only reason at all that he cared for Mary so much was he had been dear friends with Cora since her crazy mother had moved in next door when they were both school-aged. And he'd been like a brother to her, like an uncle to Mary, Edith, and Sybil all of these years. Robert tolerated him, Violet rolled her eyes at him, and Cora still adored him as her best friend.

That was family, though.

Elspeth Hughes was not family.

She was like a disease, slowly infecting him, taking over all of his reason and his –

He sighed and rolled his eyes at himself. Either he found the courage to do this, or he never would.

* * *

She was sitting up in the hospital bed, hooked up to a host of machines and tubing, in her hospital gown and bathrobe, looking tired, irritable, and disinterested. He'd not seen her without makeup, but without the polish and the grandeur, she was even more beautiful than he'd thought. He cleared his throat, both wanting to draw attention to himself and not wanting to be too forward and push himself into her space if she was unwilling.

Her eyebrow rose. "What on earth are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Daisy told me you were in hospital and –"

"Oh, that interfering little twit," she sighed in annoyance. "I suppose she told you I collapsed, too, to make it all the more dramatic – Beryl told the girls it was exhaustion."

"But it isn't?"

She shook her head and sighed. "Those are lovely flowers, Mr. Carson," she said, her tone softening. "Thank you. You can set them wherever you can find a place for them. And then you can sit wherever you'll be comfortable." She paused. "They're giving me a sleeping pill soon, to make sure I rest before my surgery in the morning."

He almost dropped the vase. "Surgery?"

She nodded, almost taking what seemed to be a perverse glee at his discomfort. "Aye, they're removing a tumor from my breast in the morning – and I start radiation therapy next week," she said. "It's all very routine, apparently. Breast cancer isn't the death sentence it was only in my mum's lifetime. I'll be fine soon." There were tears shining in her eyes, though, that belied her words, and he felt sick to his stomach at the thought that she'd been ready to face it head-on and alone.

"I – I don't know what to say," he said softly.

"You don't have to say anything," she sighed. "It is a fact of life, such as it is – and between that and the stress of work, I've not been a very nice person as of late. I am sorry, Mr. Carson, like I said in my email –"

"I've not received your email," he said. "The servers are broken; no one was sending or receiving anything today."

"Oh," she said quietly. "Well, I… why are you here?"

"Because Daisy said you were ill." He paused, trying to think of a better reason that didn't sound so bloody desperate or like he was pushing himself on her.

She blinked and tears rolled down her cheeks. "You sweet man," she whispered. "Thank you. I am – I am so sorry for…"

"No, don't apologize," he said quietly. "Will you let me take you out to dinner when you've recovered? So we can start on better footing, I mean."

"I don't do dating," she said, "but… as friends, I would love to." She smiled at him and added, "Did Daisy make you Els' Indulgence?"

"The owner's special?"

She rolled her eyes and nodded. "Yes, she's so uninspired –"

"It was delicious," Charles said, sitting down at her bedside. "Tell me about it."

"I import the beans green from a very nice gentleman farmer in Indonesia," she began, "and then I roast the beans in small batches…"

As her voice turned the words over and over again, infusing them with passion, Charles wondered what she would sound like in the throes of passion, crying his name desperately into the night. And he found himself falling just that much more in love with her.

He was doomed.

And damned.

And, oh, how he wanted what he couldn't have.


	6. Chapter 6

VI:

It was very telling that Beryl had, in fact, enlisted Mr. Carson's help to keep Elsie at home and not running off to the shop every day when she was meant to be recovering. She didn't know how she felt about that, really. Except that he knew where she lived and he'd fed her cats and he'd cleaned up the living room without complaint. And she felt incredibly vulnerable as she watched him making tea in the kitchen.

"You don't have to stay," Elsie said, leaning against the doorframe. "I can't drive anywhere for three more days and moving from bed to the sofa is enough to wear me out. I'm not going anywhere."

He glanced over at her and said, "Beryl asked me to make sure you're taken care of during the day."

"When did you get so bloody chummy with my best friend, anyway?" she snapped.

"She catered my goddaughter's wedding," he said. "We've known each other since she opened shop. Fifteen years or something? I knew Graham – he worked for the company we buy our ink from. Are you jealous?"

"No, I'm just tired," she mumbled, huffing a little.

"What do you want for dinner?"

"I'm not really hungry," Elsie sighed. "The pain pills are making me queasy."

"Probably because you haven't eaten anything," he scolded sensibly. "I can make you a sandwich –"

"Why are you even here?" she asked. "I barely know you – why would Beryl just ask you to watch me?"

Beryl's sleepy, angry voice came through the wall. "Because he feckin' likes you, you bloomin' twat! I am trying to sleep because I have to be up in three hours to go to work and you're out there bloody whining about me asking a very nice man – who I would shag in a heartbeat if he looked at me half the way he looks at you – to make sure you don't pull your stitches, collapse in a heap, or hurt yourself because you're a moron and try to do things too soon!"

Elsie swallowed hard and tried to look anywhere but at him. She failed miserably, and her face was not nearly as red with embarrassment as his was when their eyes met. "Well, I –"

"I can go get something for all of us – how about a nice Chinese?" he stammered.

"Thank you," Elsie mumbled.

"Fried vegetables in lobster sauce," Beryl called.

"Elspeth…?"

"Whatever," Elsie said softly. "Dealer's choice, I guess – I've not got much appetite."

"She likes chicken in black bean sauce and snow peas," Beryl said in the voice of someone who was suffering. She came into the kitchen and looked like she'd been tipped out of bed and dragged up by her knickers. "But she won't tell you that because she's a stubborn bloody fool." She glared at Elsie. "Did you take your meds or do I have to make you take them?"

"I took them," Elsie said quietly.

"You should be much nicer to Charlie here," Beryl snapped. "He's helping you out of the goodness of his bloody heart – and thank god for it. I'm having to straddle your shop and mine and make sure that Tommy boy gets settled back in with the keys and the new systems and – ugh."

Elsie had the grace to blush and look away. "I'm sorry I'm such a bloody nuisance."

"You aren't a nuisance," Charles said, then hesitantly cleared his throat. "I'll be back in a bit with some food."

"Thank you," Beryl muttered. Once he was gone and the door to the flat was shut behind him, she looked at Elsie. "That man – that sweet, gentle bear of a man – is hopelessly in love with you, Els. Anyone with eyes can see it. You'd have to be blind not to see it. And you're completely oblivious."

"He doesn't know me from –"

"You won't let him know you," Beryl countered irritably. "All this 'I'm lonely' and 'I need to get laid' talk and god knows, he's been quietly sniffin' round your skirts for years."

"He has not! Don't be absurd," Elsie denied furiously. "You're just saying that because –"

"Because it's the truth, Els," Beryl said. "And I would do the horizontal tango with him in a heartbeat if he wanted me – but he doesn't want me, does he?"

"Well, he doesn't want me," Elsie snapped.

"Oh, for god's sake – Anna's right: there's no bloody hope for you at all," Beryl huffed.

"And what if I let him in and it all falls apart?" Elsie shot back, horrified that her darkest fears were suddenly going to be out on display. "God knows Joe and I didn't last – and he married Becky and dropped her like a hot potato when she had her schism and went bloody mental." She winced. "And the only other man I ever was with was that Richard fellow –"

"Oh, yes, Dr. Clarkson… oh, he was luscious," Beryl said, sighing a little. "Whatever happened to him, anyway?"

"He took the tumor out of my breast," Elsie muttered.

"Well… that was a bit awkward, wasn't it?"

"I don't know: I was asleep," Elsie sighed. "Look, Beryl, I'm not what any man wants – not really. I work too hard, I'm too neurotic, and I don't actually give two shits if I am what they want or not."

"Give him a chance, Els. You might surprise yourself. He might surprise you."

"I just don't want to be hurt again," Elsie whispered. It was so much deeper than that, though – exposing yourself to someone else made you so vulnerable. Anything could happen. She wasn't going to lie and say that she didn't see the way he looked at her, the way he treated her, but she could not give voice to her words to say she would give him what he wanted, either. "Everyone decides I'm not enough for them and then they leave me."

"Stuff and nonsense," Beryl said. "I've not left you yet, you daft woman. And I take the worst of you on a daily basis. Love is worth every bit of hurt, Elsie – every bit of it. I would sell my soul to have another day with Graham, sweetheart. I would. In a heartbeat. And it hurts me that you won't even try to find someone to love like that, Els. It's not healthy."

"Yes, well – what if –"

"What if a nuclear bomb goes off? What if world war three happens? What if I knock you upside the head with something?" Beryl snapped. "Be the change you wish to see, Elsie Hughes. Take the bull by the horns – or better yet, take Mr. Carson by the trousers – and take what you want."

Elsie swallowed hard and tried not to blush. "That's, well… That's much easier said than done, Beryl."

Beryl rolled her eyes and pursed her lips together into a scowl. "Sometimes, I really hate you," she muttered. "It doesn't have to be a big tragic thing, Els. Just get to know him and kiss him and take him to bed already. No losers when everyone wins, eh?"

"But my breast," Elsie said, barely giving voice to the words. "They removed half my right breast, Beryl. No man will want me after that –"

"Oh, for the love of – Elspeth Hughes, men like fucking," Beryl said bluntly. "Breasts are good, they're lovely, we all have them, but they're not the be all, end all. Men like fucking. Fucking is good – it's bloody fucking delightful. I'm sure you remember the thing – sweaty, desperate, all kinds of fun and pleasurable things… yeah? Fucking is amazing – it helps you calm down, it helps release all kinds of happy drugs into your system, and god, it helps with pain. So, you just put those thoughts that no one wants you straight out of your head, young lady, and you go put the moves on Mr. Carson."

Elsie's face was bright red: there was no other color it possibly could be. She was beyond mortified. And where did Beryl get off telling her what to do and who to do it with, anyway? "Oh… shut up," Elsie mumbled.

"He wouldn't tell you no," Beryl advised sagely.

"Who wouldn't tell who no?" Charles asked as he came back into the flat with bags in hand from the Chinese restaurant on the corner.

"You wouldn't tell Elsie no –"

"BERYL," Elsie snapped warningly, getting up from the table quickly enough that she upset the chair. "I need to go lie down. I don't feel at all well."

She went to her room and laid down on her bed, wishing for an irrational moment that he would follow her so she didn't have to make the effort of going to him and looking a fool. She'd left the door ajar and could hear hushed voices from the kitchen, then after a while, Beryl got ready for the night and left.

Elsie was about to turn the light on and pretend to read for a while when there was a gentle knock on the door. "Are you hungry?" Charles asked. "I can reheat your dinner –"

He'd been taking care of her for three days, and suddenly, she saw – she understood with a clarity she'd not managed to reach before. And it frightened her. Everything that she could see frightened her and thrilled her and made her scared to say a word or encourage herself to dream or want or even to hope. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out – only a strangled noise that he took to mean pain. He was at her side in an instant, turning on the light, getting her a fresh bottle of water and her pain pills.

But when he presented her with the water and the pills, she shook her head and pulled him down so quickly for a kiss that she thought maybe she'd not moved at all. If it wasn't for the delightful pressure of his lips on hers and the feel of his stubble against her chin, she would have cited it all away as a dream. But no, it was so very real.

So very, very real.


	7. Chapter 7

VII:

She woke up on the sofa in his arms, not remembering falling asleep in the first place. She shifted and moaned, feeling older than her years. "Mmm, Charlie?" Elsie breathed.

"Shh, go back to sleep," he whispered. "That was just Mary, reminding me I've got a board meeting tomorrow."

"I've got to go back to work tomorrow," she mumbled. "I don't want to." She paused. "Then my radiation therapy begins on Friday."

"Do you want me to take the afternoon off and –"

"No," she said, waking up finally with a clear head. "No, I'll be fine. You don't need to take more time off just to take care of me."

"But if I wanted to…"

"No, Charles," she said firmly. "It's something I need to do on my own. I'm sorry."

"I know you'll be tired and ill afterward," he said softly, "but do you want to try to do something this weekend?"

"Something? Like a date?"

"Or dinner as friends or –"

She hesitated a moment, then exhaled. "I don't know, Charles. I'm not sure us going out somewhere together is a good idea. I'm not sure going out is a good idea."

"We don't have to go out. I can order in and we can sit on the sofa like this all evening – you could meet my dog. She's been staying with my youngest goddaughter and her family while I've been here," he commented. "Her daughter is especially fond of Lady."

"Your dog's name is Lady?" Elsie asked, wrinkling her nose and trying not to smile at the same time. "Aren't you the pretentious one?"

"Are you mocking me?"

"Maybe a little." She giggled a little at his mock-horror, then kissed his jaw. "I'm sorry – do I need to behave myself?"

"I would really be rather disappointed if you did," he said, gently rubbing her arm with his fingertips. "Are you certain you should go back to work tomorrow?"

"No, but someone has to mind the shop," she sighed, closing her eyes again. She didn't feel like she could tell him all the reasons she could never quit, could never give up or give in – they would definitely scare him away. "I'll stay in the office most of the day, though… the accountant is coming tomorrow. We rescheduled."

"Okay," Charles said. "If you promise to be good."

"I'm always good," Elsie said with a smile. "Unless I'm really, really bad, and then it's smoking, drinking, gambling and whoring… and I get bored within a few minutes." He chuckled and shifted so he was holding her closer, but still within his bounds of propriety. "Charles?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"For what, Elsie?" he asked.

"Everything," she murmured. "But especially being patient."

"I am not a patient man," he said, his voice low and rumbling, "but for you… I'd wait till the end of the earth."

"Well, there you go being all romantic and shit," she muttered. But in spite of her protests, she smiled as she curled into him, feeling safe for once in her life.

* * *

"I'm not sure if you'll like this or not," Elsie said as she came around the counter and presented Charles with his to-go cup. "They're very bitter Spanish-roast beans with ginger and cardamom syrup and coconut milk."

"How even do you come up with these flavor profiles?" he asked, taking a sip of the coffee. "My god, Elsie…"

She smiled and surprised him with a quick peck on the cheek. "Away with you, sir," she murmured. "Every time you come in here, you make me want to run to the ladies' and make sure I'm tidy and prettier than I am."

"You are beautiful," he intoned softly. "Saturday night, Mary is throwing a dinner party. Say you'll come with me."

She swallowed hard; it was one thing to be with him behind closed doors, or in the safety of her shop, but with other people…? "Oh, Charles, I don't know – I'll still be weak from the radiation. I don't know how I'll be feeling –"

He exhaled, the noise louder in the room than it had any right to be. She felt terrible for making him upset. "I understand…"

She bit her lip, then sighed. "If I feel up to it," she promised quietly, "I'll come with you."

"A date, then," he said with a little smile.

"I don't do dating – you know that," she said irritably. "It's just dinner."

"Whatever you say," he agreed with her a little condescendingly.

She scowled at him, then muttered, "You'd better get back to work before your precious Mary has your balls for paperweights on her desk."

He blinked. "Well, there's an image I'm never going to get out of my head."

She had a hard time keeping a straight face when he kissed her gently on the lips and bid her adieu. She had an even harder time keeping a straight face with Daisy behind the counter, sighing wistfully. Hell, she couldn't keep the smile off her bloody lips.

If they ever got around to bedroom antics, she would probably strut through the shop, singing or something.

Dear sweet lord, what was wrong with her?

It smacked her like a lightning bolt between the eyes: she was ass over tip in love with Charles Carson and there was absolutely nothing she could – or wanted to – do about it.


	8. Chapter 8

VIII:

"So," Cora said conversationally as she settled onto the settee with Charles, "are you going to tell me about your lady friend or am I going to have to tickle it out of you?" She smirked and raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't forget, your little sister can still get one up on you…"

He smiled wanly at her and drummed his fingers nervously on his thigh. "I'm seeing Elspeth Hughes."

"Well, yes, I know that," Cora huffed. "And I know she's Tom's boss and Sybbie's godmother and she's great friends with your friend Beryl… but I don't know anything about her, aside from she has a coffee shop and has you utterly whipped."

He sighed. "I refute 'utterly whipped'."

"Oh, you would," she muttered. "God knows, after that whole bloody debacle with Alice, I never thought you'd start dating."

"We aren't dating. She doesn't do dating," he said, slightly rolling his eyes.

Cora bit back a snicker. "Oh, I see," she said, biting her lip to contain her mirth. "So you just… snog? Grope one another on the divan? What?"

"You're not helping," he sighed.

"Tell me about her," Cora insisted. "I need to know if she's worthy of you."

This time, he really did roll his eyes. "Cora," he said warningly, "I asked her to come tonight because it's just a family dinner… not to throw her in the bloody shark pit."

"Are you saying that I bite?" she asked, wounded, pouting.

"If the shoe fits," he countered.

She scowled at him. "I don't bite. Hard."

"Hard enough," he said, a frown on his lips. "She's skittish; doesn't really believe I'm going to stick around, I don't think."

"Well… are you?" Cora asked.

He pulled a face and looked down at his hands. "Who knows how things will end up?" he finally said. "I don't know. I don't think I'd be as callous as Alice was to me – but I can't say if circumstances pushed me that way, that I mightn't have done the same."

"Oh, come on, Charlie, you're not an asshole," Cora sighed. "You can be petty, cruel, and pissy, but you're not deliberately a dick to people. When you commit to something, you stay on it and see that it gets to the appropriate outcome. You always have."

He smiled a little. "I miss spending more time with you."

Cora shrugged. "Sometimes, I wonder if I married the wrong man," she said pointedly. "But you and I would have killed one another by now. And it would just be horrible, seeing as how we're practically close as siblings." She shuddered delicately, then laughed. "Robert is jealous of you, you know. Because you and I are so close."

"Oh, is that why he's always sending me hateful emails?" Charles asked, winking at her and chuckling.

"I do not send you hateful emails," Robert said with a suffering sigh. "I merely disagree strongly with your editorial opinions from time to time."

Sybil laughed. "Oh, papa, I'm sure that's not half the reason – hearing tell about New Year's when mum and Uncle Charles got tipsy and played Cards Against Humanity…"

"Oh, we must play that again," Edith spoke up cheerfully.

"No, we mustn't," Violet snapped. "It is a vulgar game."

Mary pulled the cork from a bottle of wine and said, "Well, dinner is ready… I don't suppose your friend is here yet, Uncle Charles? She's really rather late and I cannot hold dinner back any longer without ruining it."

"Elsie would be the first to insist that we not wait just on account of her," Tom spoke up. "I'm sure she'll be here as soon as she can."

"You and Uncle Charles certainly seem to be her champions," Edith commented wryly.

"She's a very nice woman," Sybil shot back at her sister.

Charles checked his phone as they went to take their places at the dinner table. Nothing. He'd heard nothing from Elsie since the morning before, when she said that Beryl was bringing her home from hospital. He didn't know what to think, whether blind panic was overreaching how he should feel. She wasn't well and he needed her alive and well…

Sybbie tugged on the leg of his trousers. "Unca Chawwie, help me up?"

"Of course, love," he said, lifting her up into her special tall chair. She immediately began relaying her flatware and humming to herself as she waited patiently for her food. He was reminded very much of Mary when she was young, always fidgeting and trying to pretend like she was behaving when she was hanging on your every word. "Come here, you," he rumbled gently, pulling the little girl into a hug. She giggled and hugged him back with abandon – of all his goddaughters, he loved her the very best… even though he'd not much had the chance to get to know her until now. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Sybbie's head and said, "Now… we shall have to arrange an outing soon. Would you like to go see a puppet show?"

"Can we?" Sybbie asked with wide eyes and a hopeful smile.

"I think we can," Charles replied. "If your mum and dad say it's all right."

"Oh, I don't see why you couldn't," Sybil said with a smile. "Maybe you could work with Elsie and all of you could go together."

Violet rolled her eyes and sighed. "Dear lord, Sybil. Matchmaking is not your strong suit."

Mary brought bowls of soup in and said, "Granny, Uncle Charles doesn't need a matchmaker – he has things in hand already."

"Now who's the vulgar one," Edith tittered like a schoolgirl.

Cora sighed. "Can we have a nice meal for once without scarring everyone for life?" she asked in annoyance.

The thread of conversation didn't waver over the next half an hour as they ate. Charles found himself very entertained by Sybbie and her parents, much to his surprise. So much so that the doorbell startled everyone – including him.

"Oh, that must be your girlfriend, Uncle Charles," Mary said sweetly. "Fashionably very late, I should say… and she's missed the soup and salad. How dreadful for her."

"Yes, how dreadful," Tom echoed sarcastically, shooting Charles a look that plainly said, 'get me the fuck out of here'.

"I'll go," Cora said, moving to get up and answer the door, but Charles jumped to his feet.

"No, I'll go," he said sharply. "It'll only be a minute."

"Well, you let her know that the only excuse I'll accept for her tardiness is that she was caught in every traffic snarl in London," Mary called snidely after him.

Charles rolled his eyes and huffed a little as he threw open the door. Elsie stood on the other said, her back to the door – and now him – as if she were ready to bolt. "Els, thank god – I thought you weren't coming and you weren't answering your phone…"

"It's broken," she said, her voice thick with tiredness. "I'm sorry – I can't stay." She turned and looked at him quietly, defying him to say a word. "I don't want your family to see me like this. I didn't want you to see me like this." She lowered her gaze to her feet and swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry, Charles."

"What happened?" he asked, bile rising in his throat as he saw her split, swollen lip, the bruising on her cheek and around her left eye, the gash on her forehead.

"It doesn't matter," she mumbled. "Not now."

He gently tucked his finger under her chin and tilted it up so she looked at him. "Elsie, it matters to me," Charles said very quietly. "What happened?"

She hesitated, and he drew her inside, closing the door behind her. Then he gently wrapped her up in his arms, holding her and tucking her head under his chin. It took a minute before she mumbled something about him feeling like home. He didn't have a chance to file it away as a compliment. "I've got a sister in Lytham Saint Anne's," she exhaled in a low rush. "She's bipolar and she's off her medication. My niece got home from school for the weekend yesterday and there was no food and no money for food, because Becky spent it all on alcohol and the bloody dogs. So I got up from my sickbed and drove all the way there, just to get thrashed by my sister for having the gall to tell her what to do." She took a deep breath and choked. "It's my fault. It's always my fault – I push her and goad her and try to make her see reason and it doesn't work."

"Is your niece all right?" he asked worriedly.

"I took her back to her school," Elsie said quietly, "and made arrangements for her to board on the weekends until Becky's out of the institution again. I had to take five thousand out of the business account to cover the fees for that. I don't know what I'm going to do, Charles. I can't – I'm a terrible person. I just stand there and watch it happen because I'm not legally responsible for anyone but my sister, and I can't just step in and take Gwen away from her. I've not got a right to her." Her words were low and trembling, just as she was in his arms. "I pay her school fees and I subsidize their rent and send money every month for food in case Becky's disability doesn't cover everything, and I… I can't."

He held her gently closer, closing his eyes and wishing he could take it all away for her. "Els," he whispered, choking up, "why didn't you tell me?"

He barely heard her response. "I didn't want to give you a reason."

"A reason?"

"A reason to think I'm not worth it." She raised her hand and gestured at herself sadly. "Not exactly a prize, here."

"That isn't true," he whispered. "You are so brave and strong, Elspeth. You're brilliant and beautiful and every day, I wonder if you're going to wake up and dump me on my bum. So don't you dare think I'm going to push you away because your sister's a bit mad."

"You don't want to be stuck with me," she mumbled.

"But I do," he said. "I do want to be stuck with you. I do."

She inhaled shakily, then laughed sadly. "You'll wake up one day and realize you're a bloody fool and I'm not worth the effort –"

"You are worth every bit of effort," Charles assured her. "And if I wasn't sure you'd flip your shit in my goddaughter's foyer, I would ask you right here and right now for your hand in marriage to prove the point, Elspeth Hughes. Because I will tell you something right now – I am not marrying anyone else. It might take a while to get there, but we will get there someday."

She looked up at him with tears streaming down her cheeks. "Charles, you… you can't mean that," she whispered.

"I mean every word," he said softly. "And don't worry about where the money is coming from to replace what came out of the account. I'll make sure funds are transferred in the morning."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"You aren't asking me anything," he said.

She inhaled shakily and her breath caught on a sob. "I drove all the way back here just to tell you I'm a horrible person and to break it off with you before it got serious and messy… but it's already messy and you've proposed and – god."

"I am madly, hopelessly in love with you," Charles whispered. He held his breath, hoping she would say something to the affirmative, but she didn't. She didn't have to say anything.

She just kissed him, tears flowing like rivers down her face. She kissed him over and over again, and whispered, "I'm sorry – I'm so sorry… I want to be stuck with you, Charlie. I –"

A throat cleared, and they turned, pulling apart. "Cora," Charles said, trying to look like they hadn't been, well… doing anything.

"Mary sent me to make sure everything is all right," Cora said softly. "I didn't want to interrupt; your conversation was obviously more important. But she's getting antsy about serving the next course. So let's get Miss Hughes a glass of wine and get her seated so I don't have to think about all the ways I want to torture my daughter."

Charles rolled his eyes and sighed. "How much did you hear?" he asked.

"Enough," Cora said, sizing Elsie up. "And I can put in a call to a lawyer friend of mine and see what can be done about securing rights to care for your niece in her mother's stead without issuing a full legal guardianship." She paused. "Do you like white wine or red?"

Elsie blinked. "Red."

"Oh, good, you'll fit right in," Cora said with a smile. "Come on – I hear Mary winding up for a tantrum."

Charles took a step, but Elsie pulled him back. She kissed him very gently on the cheek, and breathed, "I love you, too."


	9. Chapter 9

IX:

Elsie felt the urge to go to her office, take her shirt off, and slather ice-cold whipped cream all over her breast. Not because she wanted to present a delectable treat to Charles, but because she felt chapped, raw, and her skin was peeling off. It would be cold, soothing, and she whimpered quietly, wishing she could get rid of her bra while she was at it. She'd finished her fourth radiotherapy session the afternoon before, and now the side effects were presenting with force. She had two more sessions and then a follow-up consult, but everything seemed to be going according to plan. The tumor was gone and the radiation was killing what cancer cells were left. Seven more days and she could get back to the business of living her life.

Three weeks of radiation therapy seemed entirely too long.

Charles was very good about calling and making sure she was taking care of herself. So good, in fact, that she wanted to tell him to just come over and tuck her in already!

"You all right?" Tom asked with no small amount of concern as they handled the mid-morning rush together. She was running register and doing the finishing touches while he did the brewing and mixology; they were a good team, effortlessly anticipating each other's next move with flourish. "Elsie?"

She paused and wiped her forehead, surprised to see and feel so much sweat. "I'm fine," Elsie murmured.

"No, you're not," Tom said quietly. "You look like you're going to fall over – go sit down."

"I'm not abandoning you," she mumbled, gripping the edge of the counter tightly.

"Elsie…"

"I'll be fine in a minute," she promised.

"Go," Tom ordered. "Sit down. Now. It's not a request, Elsie. You're white as a sheet."

She looked up at him and saw nothing but concern on his face. After another moment's hesitation, she nodded slowly and took hesitant, faltering steps toward one of the sofas. She closed her eyes and tried to make the short journey without opening them, and startled a little when she felt a gentle hand on her elbow, steadying her.

"Careful," Cora Crawley warned gently. "You need to sit down."

Elsie exhaled a mixture of annoyance and trepidation that merely came out as a sigh.

"I decided it was high time I came to take in your little shop for myself," Cora murmured. "But imagine my surprise when you nearly passed out back there, dear. Are you quite well?"

"I'm fine," Elsie said quietly. "I will be, anyway. I just had a hot flash." A lie, easily explainable, easily believed, and not quite a lie: her body temperature had soared since the treatments had begun.

Cora rolled her eyes. "Sure," she said in a tone that proved she didn't believe a word of it, but she wasn't going to push too hard. "I really like the vibe in here. It's very chill, quite romantic and subtle and just lovely. No wonder Charlie loves it so much." She sat down next to Elsie. "Now, I've been very busy, but I'm thinking we need to have a little chat. Just us girls. What do you say?"

 _Oh hell no_ , is what she wanted to say. The last thing she wanted to do was sit with Cora and listen to the woman go on and on and on about how close she and Charles were. It made Elsie jealous to think that if circumstances had been just slightly different, he probably would have married Cora and that… that was enough to drive her mad. The fact that Cora thought it completely appropriate to drape herself adoringly all over him and giggle like a little girl – and Charles not only allowed it, but encouraged it – made her feel more than slightly inferior. He didn't look at her that way; he just treated her like she would break if he touched her.

Elsie put on a brave face and smiled wanly. "Okay," she said, trying to keep her voice from falling flat and sullen.

"Oh, I spoke to my friend and he says he'd like to ask you a few questions about the situation with your sister and your niece, so I'll of course give you his card," Cora said cheerfully. "So… now, then. How are you and Charlie getting on since he proposed?"

"It wasn't really a proposal," Elsie said, wishing a hole to open up in the floor and swallow her whole. "We've not talked about it since then."

"You should," Cora declared. "It's not every day that someone proposes marriage."

Elsie rolled her eyes. "Yes," she agreed, "and I would have given him an answer if he'd actually asked me properly, but seeing as how he didn't, I haven't, and I shan't."

Cora's smile faded abruptly and she said, "What the hell do you think you're playing at? Are you toying with him?"

"What happens between Charles and I is none of your business," Elsie said, feeling suddenly like she was about to be attacked by a ferocious animal.

"Don't you dare," Cora snapped. "Don't you even fucking dare. If you hurt him, I will hurt you. I will make you pay through the teeth. No one hurts my Charlie and gets away with it. Do you understand me? I will fuck your shit up. Got it?"

Elsie just stared at her, blinking only when necessary. "I wouldn't," she finally breathed, hoping it would be enough to placate the other woman.

"Has he told you he was married before?" Cora asked.

Elsie nodded. "Yes, but I didn't ask for details because –"

"Alice was a shallow, selfish woman and Charlie loved her unconditionally," Cora snapped. "Even when he found out she'd been cheating for years, he tried to forgive her. It wasn't until she left him and served him with divorce papers that he realized he'd been played. She broke his heart and his spirit, Elsie. And I refuse to let it happen again. So if you intend to leave him – if you intend to hurt him in any way – I will make your life absolutely miserable."

Elsie laughed bitterly. "Oh, please," she huffed. "Like I can possibly be any more miserable than I am right now."

"Not funny," Cora countered irritably. "Not at all."

"So, how exactly did you become Charles Carson's self-appointed attack dog?" Elsie asked. "God knows the man could deliver a fatal blow himself –"

"Yeah right," Cora scoffed. "A fatal blow to a marshmallow, maybe. Or a fucking cream puff. He doesn't have it in him to be really mean." She paused and narrowed her eyes. "On the other hand, I have no qualms in fucking a bitch up if she hurts my family."

"Oh, for god's bloody sake," Elsie sighed, "you've made your point. I'll not be hurting your precious Charlie. In fact, I'll make him very happy just to spit in your eye."

"Oh, well, thank you for being unreasonable," Cora muttered, glaring at Elsie. "He's more my big brother than my actual brother – and someone has to watch out for him, since he's done such a piss-poor job of it up till now. Don't pretend you wouldn't do the same for your sister."

Elsie paused and bit her lip. "I don't know," she admitted. "Her ex-husband is my accountant."

Cora stared at her in alarm. "What the actual fuck," she said. "No, no, no, we're going to find you someone better, Elsie. Especially if you and Daniel work out acceptable terms of care for your niece. You don't want the girl's father to –"

"Oh no," Elsie said, "Joe is very definitely not Gwen's da. Thank god. Or I'd feel a hell of a lot worse about everything. It's bad enough as-is." She sighed and pushed her hair back out of her sweaty face.

"God knows my father is a piece of work," Cora muttered. "He was an Ambassador. So we came to England as a family. Then he decided that my mother was crazy and cut her off. He served her papers, cut off the accounts, and he went back to America with my brother. Because boys are more important than girls, still." She fell silent for a long moment, then added, "The only time he actually gave a damn was when I was old enough to go to university. Then he hauled me back to the States and forced me through Harvard – on a political sciences scholarship, of course – and promptly disowned me when I married Robert."

"My father was never in the picture, and my sister's da never married my mam," Elsie said with a shrug. "We got by the hard way; we all worked soon as we were able. My first job was cleaning toilets at a club in Glasgow. My second job was cleaning toilets and making beds. This is as high as I can climb without falling through the floor," she admitted. "And I still muck out the toilets."

"I was five when mother and I moved in next door to the Carsons," Cora said. "Charlie was eleven. He took pity on me and saved me from the neighborhood bully, and we got to be very close. When I went to America to go to school, he was a mailboy for a prominent publishing house. When I came home and went to work for St. John Thomas's office – and met Robert – I knew I had to get him out of that dead-end job. Charles had just gotten married and he refused the job Robert was offering him, and he and Alice went to America instead, because he'd had an offer from the Chicago Tribune that was better." She smiled sadly. "When he came back, broken, I had to remind Robert that Charlie was more family to me than my own flesh and blood. He needed someone to fight in his corner, and he still does. But maybe… maybe it's not meant to be me anymore."

"I love him," Elsie said simply. "And I would sooner hurt myself than him." She looked away from Cora and sighed. "I just… it's all so much. I've not felt this way ever in my life. And he's always so… present. Like I'm not sure how to react because I've been alone up till now and I don't know how to just be with him."

"Well, he loves you very much and I don't think it matters beyond that, really," Cora said gently. "You've both been hurt and you've spent most of your lives trying not to be hurt again. He wouldn't have mentioned marriage even in a vague context if he didn't believe you were the one."

Elsie bit her lip; between her anxiety and the radiation burn, she was pretty sure she was about to lose her fucking mind. "If he asked me properly, I would only have one answer for him," she sighed. "Because I can't lose him now. Not now."

Cora nodded, satisfied. "I'm sorry if I've upset you – I just get very defensive –"

"You're right to be," Elsie murmured. "And you're right to say he needs someone in his corner. But maybe it would be better if it were both of us, and we were on the same side." She glanced over at Cora and said, "Pax, then?"

"Yes, pax," Cora agreed. "And Mary, Edith and I are going shopping Saturday. You should come along."

"I can't," Elsie said. "I've got an appointment. I'm sorry – I've just… it's been booked."

"Can't you change it?"

Elsie shook her head and sighed. "No, I can't. The sessions are prescribed and booked by the doctor on a regimen and I cannot deviate from them." She took a deep breath and plunged into the deep end. "I really want the cancer to be gone. If I don't do it by the book, if I don't do exactly what the doctor says, it might not actually go."

Cora stared at her, horrified. "You… you have cancer? Does Charlie know?"

Elsie nodded and mumbled, "Where do you think he was for a week when he was 'working from home'? He was in my flat, coddling me like a toddler so I wouldn't go back to work."

"Are you going to be all right?" Cora asked.

"The prognosis is good," Elsie said with a small smile. "We caught it early enough. Not like my mam; she was stage four when she went to see the doctor and died less than a month later after the cancer spread to her brain." She took a deep breath and exhaled weakly. "Charles has been very good through all of this. I… don't know how to thank him."

Cora paused, then a mischievous smile graced her lips. "Oh, I can think of a way or two…"

Elsie's eyes widened as her thoughts went straight to the gutter.

Maybe making friends with Cora was a bad idea, after all.


	10. Chapter 10

X:

Anna smirked at Elsie and said, "So you're going out tonight?"

"No, I'm just taking the night off," Elsie replied a little too snappishly. "Are you sure you're all right to close up?"

Anna rolled her eyes. "I'll have to be," she said sarcastically. "Because I've not done it a thousand times before or anything." She added, "Are you going out with Mr. Carson?"

Elsie scowled and flicked a straw wrapper at the other woman. "I'm hoping to stay in my bed with a bottle of wine and a chocolate bar," she admitted.

"That'll probably make you feel worse," Anna advised. "You've been so sick the last few weeks – did they ever figure out what was wrong? All these appointments –"

Elsie smiled. "Yes," she said, "and there's not a lot to worry about. It's run its course."

"Well, that's good – you can get some rest now, I hope," Anna said. "Are you feeling better?"

"I am," Elsie fibbed gently. "Well, I should let you keep on…"

"If you happen to have a night out with Mr. Carson, I should hope you'd tell me all about it," Anna sighed. "God knows I can't pull to save my life lately."

Elsie shook her head and sighed. "Life isn't all about pulling and dating and things," she commented wryly. "Like I said, I intend to put my feet up with a bottle of wine and some chocolate."

"You should have a hot bath and some quality time with Mr. Carson, you repressed ninny," Anna said with a little giggle.

The idea of a hot bath made Elsie cringe; god knew taking a cold shower had been all she could manage for the last month. And what would Charles say, seeing her battle scars and her blistered, raw skin? It wasn't going to happen. Not at all. He'd not be seeing her naked for a long while yet.

"What did I say?" Anna asked, suddenly anxious. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Elsie assured her. "I'm just going to go home and have a quiet night in."

"You always have a quiet night in."

"Aye, because I'm old and a bit dodgy when it comes to going out," Elsie reminded her gently. "Have a good night, Anna – don't forget the paper warehouse is making a late delivery at seven with the napkins they left off the last truck."

"Yes, boss," Anna said, rolling her eyes.

Elsie got her scarf and cardigan, bundling up against the weather. It was late October and things were beginning to cool down a lot in the evenings. So she came prepared. The drive back to her flat was quick and quiet, for once, and she found herself puttering about in the kitchen, eventually making Moroccan baked eggs and some microwavable rice for dinner. She opened a bottle of wine and realized in the middle of drinking the first glass that she would have gone to Charles's house if she knew where he lived. She wanted to share her news with him, blow the whistle to say 'all clear', and she wanted to kiss him when he reacted with as much joy as she felt.

But she couldn't because she didn't have the courage. He'd texted earlier in the day, wishing her well at the doctor's, but he'd not followed it up. Maybe thinking she needed space?

She picked up her phone and eyed it for a long moment before she called him. "Hello," she said softly.

"Hello," he replied. "How did it go?"

She took a deep breath, then murmured, "My white blood cell count is lower than they'd like and I need to be careful about getting to hospital as soon as I so much as sniffle or cut myself, but the cancer is in remission."

"Oh, thank god for that," he breathed, laughing. "I've been over here going mad all day because I was terrified the news would be bad – and it's good, and I feel so much better… I can't imagine how you're feeling right now."

"I feel like I should be with you and not making baked eggs," she admitted quietly.

"Do you want me to come over?"

"No, I mean – you've got to be sick of being here," she said with a sigh. "And I don't know where you live."

"I'll send you the address so you can put it into Maps and get the directions," he said. "I've got to take Lady for her walk, but then I'll be in all night. You're more than welcome to come over."

"Do you want me to? Come over, I mean – I won't if you don't want me to, or if it's inconvenient or –"

"Els," he said gently, "there is nothing I'd like more than to see you tonight. Forget the eggs – get them out of the oven and I'll pick up something while I'm out with Lady. We'll open a bottle of wine and snuggle on the sofa."

"If you're going to the chippie, I prefer cod and very little vinegar," she commented. "And no peas. God, no peas."

He chuckled. "Fish and chips it is, then," Charles said in a sweet, rumbling tone. "I'll text you the address and see you in a bit."

Elsie set aside her partial glass of wine. "Oh, you can count on it, Mr. Carson," she purred softly.

She waited for his text to come through, and put the address into her sat nav app. And then she paused and looked at herself in the mirror. If she had to be honest, she wanted this to be special, a new beginning for them – the cancer was a non-issue and she only had to deal with the lingering side effects from the radiation. She didn't like the way she looked. So very many white hairs had come in in the last few weeks and she'd lost weight to the point her clothes didn't fit properly. She wanted to celebrate with Charles, to… well, throwing herself at him and fucking him seemed like such a vulgar thing to say she wanted, but she did want both… but she wasn't at all certain that he'd like what he would see. And she wasn't even wearing matching underthings.

She'd taken to wearing sports bras because they didn't rub so badly, and she didn't care enough to wear nice knickers. Well…

She all but ran to her bedroom to change into nicer underthings and clean clothes that didn't reek of spices and the coffee shop. It took her a few minutes, and then she thought about putting makeup on – but she was already tired, so what did that matter at all?

She bit her lip and tried to remind herself gently that he'd seen the worst of her already and he'd not run screaming into the night. He'd held her hair back when she'd retched into the sink and he'd held her when she'd thought she might literally scratch off all her skin and make the itching stop. And he'd been at her side when she'd called the institution to speak to Becky, held her hand when she'd faltered. And he loved her. He loved her.

Charles Carson loved Elsie Hughes.

And she loved him so deeply that it terrified her. She'd not given his sort of proposal much thought, just an off-handed look over her memory of the scene once in a while, but…

Something inside her shifted, clicked into place. And the rest of it didn't matter. Not her mismatching undies or her overworked state… not her sister or her need to make sure everything was perfect as it could be for him.

None of that mattered. Because she couldn't live without him in her life ever again.

She got her shoes back on and grabbed her purse and her jacket. She couldn't have told anyone anything about her journey – just that she followed directions and turned when prompted by the sat nav. And she wound up on the street in front of a lovely rowhouse with navy blue shutters and front door. She recognized Charles's BMW and parked her little Mini behind it, hoping that it would be all right. And then she tried to breathe, to remember that everything would be all right.

She was startled by a knock on the window and looked up to see Charles smiling at her. She opened the door and got out of the car, nearly falling on the kerb. "Oh great," she muttered, "now I've gone and twisted my bloody ankle –"

"Here, let me help," he said gently. "That's better – steadier, anyway. Why are you wearing ridiculous heels?"

"Because I felt ridiculous," she sighed. The wee little dog sniffed her leg and wuffled at her, drawing Elsie's attention. "Oh, you must be Lady… hello, darling, aren't you precious?"

"We better go in or the chips will get cold," Charles said gently. "And I've got a lovely bottle of white burgundy on to chill. I hope that's all right –"

"Lovely," Elsie murmured. She could feel panic beginning to well up inside her, but she tried desperately to quell it. This was Charlie, her Charlie, and he wasn't going to hurt her or judge her. All she had to do was open her heart to him and let him in, let him hold her together as if she were broken bits of a puzzle. She followed Charles and Lady inside, where he stooped to let the little dog off her leash. "Charlie, I –"

"What, love?" he said, rising back up to his full height.

She bit her lip, then released it. "I want you to know that… that I love you very much."

"Well, I am glad to hear that," Charles said with a smile, "because I love you very much as well, Elsie."

"No, Charlie, you misunderstand me," she murmured. "I love you very much, and if you still want me, you can have me – because if you were to ask me to marry you right now, in this moment, I would not say no." The words came out as a hurried rush, tangled and tumbling together in her brogue, and she didn't know if he understood them or not.

He blinked and took a deep breath, tears shining in his eyes. "Elspeth Hughes… it would give me no end of honor and happiness to make you my wife," he said quietly.

"Yes," she breathed. "I would like that very much, Charlie."

He fairly beamed at her and her heart melted; all she could feel was love, deep and abiding love, for this gentle bear of a man. She launched herself into his arms, wanting to kiss him, to hold him, to show him how much she meant her words. Their kiss was gentle but insistent, until he pulled away and mumbled, "We don't want to eat cold chips."

She smiled. "No, we don't," she agreed.

"But after dinner, we definitely must finish this conversation," he added.

She didn't know what got into her, but the next words out of her mouth were a coy, "I was hoping for less dialogue and more action."

He just stood there, blinking, his jaw slack. "You want to… you want to make love? But you've been so ill and –"

"And I've gotten the all clear and I don't care about the rest," she said. "I want to touch you and love you and be loved by you like we're meant to be – as we want to be done the rest of our lives. Because I fully intend to be married to you for at least another thirty years, Charlie." She smiled a little and reached out to take one pouch of fish and chips from him. "And, well, I think we went about things a bit out of order, didn't we? Normal people make love before they get engaged and meet each other's families, don't they?"

"What is normal anyway?" he asked. "I think normal should be falling in love and being loved in return, hang the rest – and I don't care about the food now because I have this image of you naked in my bed and I can't stop it."

She bit her lip and held back a laugh. "Oh, Charlie, we're a couple of awful bumblers, aren't we? Let's eat and then the rest will happen…"

He surprised her by giving her a kiss, deep and slow, laving his tongue over her lower lip with gentle pressure. "Yes, dear," he murmured when they parted. "Dinner and then…"

"Then, you can have me," she whispered. "All of me."

* * *

His room was very masculine. The furniture was heavy, cherry-colored wood. The linens were navy blue and charcoal grey. The walls were lighter shades of grey and blue. And all she could think about was how hard she was going to have to work to get up onto the bed. She'd need a step-stool or a lift up.

Talk about awkward.

She toed off her shoes while they were kissing, smiling against his lips as he fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. "Charlie, stop," she whispered. "Let me." She unbuttoned herself and carefully peeled the blouse away from her touchy skin, wincing a little.

"Oh my god, Elsie," he choked out. "Stop – no, what –"

"No," she said, shaking her head as she tossed the blouse away from them. "It's fine, Charlie. I've been dealing with it – it's normal. It happens when you have focused radiotherapy. I'm not going to break if you touch me. I want you to touch me, Charlie."

He swallowed hard, watching her take off her bra, wincing when he saw her scar. "Does it… does it hurt?"

She nodded. "But I don't want you to think you can't touch me just because of that – there are so many places you can touch me, love."

He sat down on the edge of the bed, watching as she shed her trousers and knickers. She knew she should have blushed at being so forward, but she didn't have it left in her to care. He wanted her, the whole her, and she needed him to see all of her for what she was. She knew she'd been successful when she came to a stop right in front of him and he croaked, "I love you – Els, I love you so much and I don't want to hurt you –"

"You won't," she promised, closing her eyes and leaning into him, feeling the softness of his shirt against her skin, the roughness of his woolen trousers scraping her knees. And then she felt him; his fingers, his hands, trailed from the backs of her knees all the way to the curve of her buttocks. It felt right, in a way that made her cold-shiver and made her body react to him far more primally than it had with her other lovers. It was a first step.

The next few steps in the dance were hazy, tangled together in knots; a frantic tearing at his clothes, groping, touching, kissing, whimpering and swearing, begging and pleading, gentle and rough and never enough. But when he kissed his way up her thigh, then buried his face in her, licking, sucking, nibbling, then all the other steps became so very clear to them both. It was a dance, exquisitely, privately theirs. No one else would ever know the way.

She bucked against him, cried for mercy, sobbed for the sheer pleasure of it as his hand came gently upon her belly to still her, to assure her that he was still there – though god knew as well as she did that no one could have done this for her but Charles. And then she saw stars: bright flashes of light in her vision as her body imploded in upon itself, waves of pleasure coiling and recoiling in her limbs. She knew she cried out, but what, she didn't know – her throat was scratchy as she came slowly back to dry land.

And he was just smirking at her like a cat what ate the cream out of sheer naughtiness.

"Oh my god," she drawled thickly, her voice catching. "Where do you – where do you hide that, Charles? Holy shit – you'd have women all over you from dawn till dusk –"

"I only want you," Charles said firmly, kissing his way up her torso, making her body sing as gooseflesh crept up on her skin. "I wanted to taste you and then there was a moment where I couldn't get enough of you – I'll never get enough of you, Elspeth." He kissed her deeply, careful not to put any pressure on her side or her breast. She tasted herself on his lips, his tongue, and she moaned, deepening the kiss, wanting so much more of him than she'd gotten already.

The last few steps were a tango, deeply passionate, bodies melding, ebbing, flowing together. His touch ignited a flame of desire that threatened to consume them both body and soul. His fingers tangled with hers, holding on for dear life as they thrust and parried, him moving deeper within her. He finished first, but to be fair, she'd already had a hell of a head start. But he did not stop just because he finished. He made absolutely certain that she had her climax, too, before he rolled away and tried to catch his breath.

They were both shaking and weak from the intensity of the workout, and from the overwhelming love and lust swirling in their systems. "I love you," she whispered, squeezing his hand.

"I… love you," he echoed shakily. "I haven't – not – I've not done that in a long time."

"Me, either," she murmured.

"I suppose now is a bad time to say I've got custard and biscotti in the cabinet if you want dessert."

She fell back into his pillows and laughed. "Only if I don't get to lick custard off you," she teased, rewarding him with a kiss. "I really do love you, Charlie."

"And I really love you more, Elsie," he whispered. "But don't tell anyone. They might try to sway you to the dark side."

"The dark side has biscuits," she chirped with a wicked smile.

"Oh, I'll show you biscuits, young lady," he scolded.

She discovered very quickly that he was not a man to back down from a challenge, and he really could not get enough of her. Nor she of him.


	11. Chapter 11

XI:

Elsie smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. They were very naked, very much twined together in the afterglow, and she was very, very pleased with herself. She'd never heard a man make such a noise before, and she wanted to hear it again. Fortunately, they had all the time in the world.

"Mmm, I love you," she breathed, letting her fingers drum gently against his belly. "So very, very much."

"And I you," he mumbled, his fingers trailing down her back. "You're so beautiful – you know that, don't you?"

"I still don't believe you," she murmured, snuggling closer.

"Why don't you believe me?" he asked, wounded.

"Because we've been engaged for two weeks and I still have yet to have you put a ring on it," she muttered, kissing his chest. "I think you just enjoy having me."

"The ring just came back from the jeweler's," he protested. "I had to have it sized. You're rather more petite than my mum's side of the family."

"Is that meant to be a compliment, Mr. Carson?" she teased gently.

"It is, unfortunately, a fact," he grumbled. "Mum's side is rather… robust."

She laughed and gave him a sweet kiss. "I don't care," she murmured. "I love you." She raised an eyebrow as he wriggled around, then got out of bed. "And where do you think you're going?"

"To get your ring," he said. "You're right – I've been remiss in not 'putting a ring on it'."

"I was only poking a bit of fun," she sighed. "I didn't mean for you to get up and bound around naked with your bits bobbing all over."

"The fact remains – I haven't given you your ring yet." He came back to bed with a small box in hand. "This has been in my mum's family since… well, at least since 1540. It was originally given as a token of appreciation from the Earl of Cumberland to the Lady Clarissa Hampton. It's been passed down from mother to daughter ever since. My mum didn't have a daughter, so it was meant to go to my bride. She refused to let me give it to Alice – I can only hope she would be more pleased with you." He frowned and opened the box for Elsie to see a lovely silver band with a bas relief of roses carved into the material. "It isn't much –"

"Charlie, it's lovely," Elsie breathed. "But I can't accept such an important trinket –"

He shook his head and gently worked the ring onto her finger. "Nonsense," he said firmly. "It's yours, love."

"It's beautiful," she murmured. "But –"

"No more 'buts'," he said softly. "It's yours, as a token of my affection and gratitude for not laughing at my horrible attempts to romance you –"

She gave him a gentle kiss and admired the ring in the low light of his room. "I suppose I should be grateful you'll have me at all," she teased. "I'm no great prize."

"You're my prize," he said softly. "Elspeth, I mean it. Every word of it."

"Shh," she breathed. "I know."

"I'm just… frightened that it will all go away," he said with a sigh. "That you'll wake up one day and suddenly realize what a waste I am and –"

"No," she denied fiercely. "Stop it. That's not going to happen." She draped her arm over him and held on for dear life. "Mine," was the last thing she said for a very long time.

* * *

The phone had been ringing off the hook all day. Elsie had gotten to a point where she put the phone on silent and hid it in the office. Everyone and their mother wanted to call and set up lunch or – or – or – and she just wasn't in the mood to have it. Even Charles had annoyed her with his one-time inquiry of whether or not she was coming over after work. They'd spent so much time together that it should have just been an assumption already.

Tom had gone home with his tail tucked between his legs and Anna eyed Elsie with suspicion. "What's wrong?" she finally asked.

"Nothing is bloody wrong," Elsie spat out, nearly burning herself on the milk steamer. "Fuck."

"Are you sure nothing is wrong because you're about ready to go ballistic," Anna said gently.

"I'm short for my share of the flat this month," Elsie muttered. "I've had things come up."

"Well, if you asked Mr. Carson, I'm sure he wouldn't mind helping," Anna advised sweetly. Elsie wanted to punch her in the face. "I mean, surely you'll be moving in together soon, won't you? Especially since you're engaged –"

"I am not going to ask him for help," Elsie snapped. "And it's rude to assume that we're far enough into our relationship to move in together, for god's sake."

"Well, then, I guess you're shit out of luck," Anna retorted. "Because you need to pay your bills, don't you?"

Elsie growled. "I'm going home," she muttered. "I can't deal with any more shit on my plate today. I just can't." She flung her towel onto the countertop and went out from behind the bar, stripping her apron off as she did. Once in her office, she threw it viciously at the wall, watching with small satisfaction as her framed certificates of license and food quality swung a bit. She gathered her things and stormed out the back to her car.

She went home and threw more things around, trying not to wake Beryl up but too angry with the world to not do something to express it. It wasn't until about five when she remembered she hadn't turned her phone back on. Six voicemails, all from the same number.

 _We regret to inform you that your sister, Rebecca Hughes, committed suicide in the overnight hours. Please contact us._

 _Ms. Hughes, we require your signature on several items of paperwork pertaining to your sister. Please contact us._

 _Ms. Hughes –_

She forgot how to breathe, how to open her mouth, inhale, exhale. Everything became a focused pain down to one single point, and she heard a noise: it took a moment to realize that she was the one making the noise. And then there was Beryl rushing into the room and Elsie broke down, sobbing. It was all she could do: cry, scream, wail… breathe, and start the cycle again.

Beryl held her until there were no more tears left to cry. Elsie stilled in her embrace and shook silently. "It's okay, love," Beryl murmured. "It's going to be all right –"

"No," Elsie breathed. "No, it's not. It's never going to be all right again."

"Shh," Beryl soothed. "Shh. Stop worrying so much. What happened, darling?"

"It's Becky – it's… god," she whimpered. "How am I going to tell Gwen? How am I going to –"

"Stop," Beryl murmured. "Breathe, love. What happened?"

"She's gone and fucking died," Elsie snapped, overwhelming bitterness and anger suddenly welling up in her heart. "She fucking went and killed herself – bloody inconvenient."

"Oh, for god's sake," Beryl sighed. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not bloody okay! Why in god's name would I be okay? My sister's bloody gone and killed herself. I have to take care of her bloody kid now – I don't know how to parent a child. Why the hell… why would she bloody do that? It's not okay – it's not fair."

"Well, life isn't bloody fair, now, is it?" Beryl countered. "And now you've got a problem, don't you?"

"Gwen isn't a problem," Elsie sighed. "Gwen is my niece and – and I'm meant to take care of her, aren't I? Especially now –"

"Have you told her yet?"

"I just found out!" Elsie exclaimed. "I just found out my sister died… because the bloody institution fucking called me. I can't, Beryl… why would they just call you and tell you something happened?"

"What else do you want them to do? Would you prefer they send a strongly worded email?" Beryl asked softly. "They need you to know."

Elsie whimpered and closed her eyes. "Damn it, Beryl… I'm going to have to go to Blackpool and tell Gwen. I can't let them tell her – I can't. It's not okay for someone else to tell her. It needs to come from me – from her family."

"It won't make it any better or any easier," Beryl warned her gently. "It's always going to be hard, and it's not okay. It won't be. I'm sorry."

"I know," Elsie sighed. "I was the one who told you about Graham. God knows I know, Beryl."

"Then you know it will be okay," Beryl murmured. "It will – it will take time, but it will be all right."

Elsie shook her head and sighed. "I'm strapped for rent," she mumbled. "Because I had to handle the whole of Becky's rent and such. I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm going to do."

"It's fine," Beryl dismissed. "I'll cover it. Just worry about making sure the funeral is covered. And figure out what you're doing with Gwen. Everything else will work itself out."

"It's not okay and it won't," Elsie said, shaking her head and closing her eyes. "I don't know what to do. I don't know where to start. I – I need to call St. Anthony's and make arrangements but I don't – Beryl –"

"Just breathe," Beryl said softly. "Do you want me to call Charlie?"

"No," Elsie snapped. "Don't you dare. He doesn't need to get involved in this right now. He's got deadlines and a board meeting in the morning. I'm not going to disrupt his life."

"Oh, darling, he wants you to disrupt his life," Beryl sighed. "He wouldn't have asked you to marry him if he didn't. Don't be so bloody stupid. Call him. Tell him. Just do it."

"No, I can't. Beryl, it's not okay to just – no."

"Elsie Hughes, you cannot just take this all on yourself, darling – you'll break just like you did when your poor dear mam died," Beryl warned softly. "Tell him. He will help you. For god's sake –"

Elsie just shook her head and tried to clear her mind. Everything was swirling in her head, a miasma of plans that needed to be made and numbers that needed to be rung, and so many things that she couldn't even begin to focus upon, let alone pin down. "I can't do that to him," she said very softly. "It's my problem, not his –"

"It's not my bloody problem, either, but that doesn't keep me from drying your tears," Beryl snapped. "If you don't call Charlie, I will. That's all there is to it, sweetheart."

"Don't you _sweetheart_ me," Elsie sighed, "and then turn around and betray me."

Beryl glared at her. "He's going to be your bloody husband," she reminded Elsie angrily. "This is what you do with the people you decide to share your life with. You let them hold you in the worst of times and love you in the best of times. Don't be such a fucking stubborn arse, Elspeth. You don't have to do any of this alone. I sure as hell wasn't alone when Graham died. You wouldn't let me be. So take it from me – you need him and you need to get your skinny arse dressed and get the hell over to his place and tell him why you're bloody crying."

"Beryl, I – I –"

"No, missy, none of that," Beryl snapped. "I'll drive you over and drop you on his doorstep. I swear to god I will."

"I have to call St. Anthony's," Elsie said, "and take care of the arrangements…"

"You can do that in the morning. And you and I will drive up and do what needs doing," Beryl promised. "Tomorrow, love. Tomorrow." Elsie's best friend reached up and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind Elsie's ear, and she knew that Beryl was wavering, that she could cry at any moment – that she was trying so very hard to hold it together for Elsie's benefit. "Do you want me to take you to Charlie's?"

If she tried to speak, it would be too much. Elsie just nodded.

* * *

She stood there on the front steps for a long time. It was raining – cold rain – but she didn't really notice the amount of rain that was falling or register that she was soaked to the bone. All she knew was that it was incredibly difficult to raise her hand and push the fucking buzzer.

Elsie worried and worried and fretted: she worried that she would tell him what was going on and that he would just look at her and say it wasn't his problem. That's something the other men in her life had done so often that she'd stopped telling anyone when things happened. She worried that he would think differently of her now, seeing her as a burden when she'd have to take over Gwen's care, and call off the engagement. She worried most of all that he would pity her this, all of it.

She punched the bell and closed her eyes, hoping against all hope that he would not judge her harshly for seeking him out; the warmth of his embrace, the scent of his skin, the hope and love that he infused in her heart…

The door flew open, startling her.

"My god, Elsie – what's wrong? What's happened?" Charles asked softly.

That, more than anything else in the world could have done, made her shatter, crumble into a million pieces. She fell into his arms and held on for dear life.

And he held her, listening as she sobbed out every pain and misery she had into his chest.

And when she was done, when she could not cry anymore, he was still there. He was still holding her. And he still loved her.

It was harder to understand that, to bear it, than the knowledge that her sister had taken her own life.

But she was so grateful for him.


	12. Chapter 12

XII:

"You didn't have to come with me," Elsie said quietly as Charles parked the car. "I know you've got a lot on this week, and you didn't have to –"

"Stuff and nonsense," Charles said, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. "I am glad to be here with you, my love. And I am glad to offer you anything you need."

Elsie was still shaken after identifying Becky's body, after discussing arrangements with a funeral parlor for a cremation, after a hasty lunch at a tea shop where Charles had all but force fed her tea and dry, disgusting scones. She couldn't stop the harsh words from leaving her lips, but she felt guilty as they did. "I need my sister back, but you can't do anything about that, now, can you?"

He hesitated a moment, then sighed. "No, I can't. I would if I could, even though I know how frustrated and angry you were with her. I would give you everything you've ever wanted if it was within my capability to grant it, Els, and you know that."

She swallowed hard and squeezed his hand. "I do know that," she whispered. "I do, Charlie. I'm sorry – I didn't mean to –"

"Grief is a terrible thing," he murmured. "I don't envy you any of this, Elsie."

"I'm not going to leave her in school all the way up here by herself," Elsie sighed, rubbing her forehead tiredly as she looked across the car park toward the mansion that served as the school. "I'm responsible for her now – the least I can do is stay here till things are squared away and after that, I don't know."

"I hope it won't take very long to do what needs doing," Charles said gently.

She blinked and looked over at him. "I… Charles, if you want your ring back – if you want to call it off… I won't be offended. You didn't ask for any of this."

"For better or for worse," he intoned softly. "Elspeth Hughes, you aren't getting rid of me because you're frightened. This is definitely the worse portion of the deal. The better portion is when we're feeding each other cheese and wine and cuddling in bed. And just… you being there at all." He tightened his grip on her hand and sighed. "I love you and I want to marry you as soon as possible, if you're amenable. I want to help you with Gwen. I want to help with the shop. I want you to stop worrying about the rent and where dinner is coming from. I need you to understand that I am not just going to leave because everyone else has done. I am here for the long haul – the rest of our lives."

"I'm sorry – I'm fifty-two and you'd think I'd have my shit together by now," Elsie breathed.

"You've been too busy maintaining everyone else's shit," Charles said bluntly. "Let me focus on you, love."

"She's only fourteen years old," Elsie sighed, nervously running her hands through her hair. "Our Gwen, I mean. And she's never known her da – hell, I don't even know who her da was. Becky was very hush-hush about her mistakes until they backfired and exploded in her face. So she's only ever had me mam, Becky, and me… and there's no way she's going to be okay with this. No way at all."

"It will be an adventure, that's for sure –"

"Charlie, every day of her life has been an adventure. She's never known any kind of stability till I sent her away to school… and now we're just going to uproot her and take her god only knows where and –"

"Elsie," he said softly, "calm down. It will be all right."

"I'm all she has left."

"No," he said, voice firm and low. "We are what she has, and we will be the best parents we can be for her. We're a team, you and I. We have to face it all together, don't we?"

She hesitated, bit her lip, then nodded. "I don't want to go in there."

"We don't have a choice, love."

"No, I suppose not," she murmured. "They have her waiting in the Headmistress's office. I'm sure she knows something has happened."

"I think it would be very obvious at that point," he said softly.

She squeezed his hand once more and released it. She got her handbag and opened the car door. "I love you, Charles," she murmured as they closed up and locked the car.

"Come here," he instructed gently. He tucked her arm around his and held her securely. "I love you, too, Elspeth Hughes – my Elsie. I am sorry I can't meet your Gwen under better circumstances, but I want to help you both."

Elsie sighed and tightened her hold on his arm as they walked. "I've always said I never wanted children," she said quietly, "but if I'd have been able to, I would have had them with you, Charles. So… I know you'll do right by our Gwen."

He gently patted her hand. "I'll do my best."

"Thank you for that, Charlie," she whispered.

Ten minutes later, they were being ushered into the Headmistress's office, where Gwen was seated on one side of the desk and the Headmistress on the other. Elsie faltered and was unprepared for Gwen to get up and rush her. "Auntie Els," Gwen whispered, "did she… is she?"

Elsie nodded and whispered, "Aye, lass, she finally did this time."

Gwen swallowed hard and started to cry. "I don't suppose she ever thought about me –"

"No, love, you can't think like that," Elsie murmured. "She held on for your sake for so many years. She tried so hard to be the best mam she could, but it wasn't enough, was it?"

"What's going to happen to me now?" Gwen asked, sounding lost and scared.

"You'll come to London with me," Elsie said gently, "and we'll find you a new school –"

"I've got a few connections," Charles spoke up. "I can shake a tree and see what vines come down."

Gwen lifted her head and looked at him with no small amount of suspicion. "Who are you?" she asked.

Elsie immediately deflected them. "This is Charles, my fiancé. Charles, this is Gwen, my niece. Gwen… we'll be moving in with Charlie as soon as we pack up you and your mum's things, if he'll have us."

"I would be delighted," Charles said, "to host such lovely ladies in my home."

Gwen glared at her aunt. "What about Beryl?"

Elsie sighed. "She's been going on and on about how I need to be happy and take like by the horns and… I think she'll be all right on her own."

"You can't just do that to her, though – she depends on you, she'll be lonely," Gwen protested, eyeing Charles like he was a predator. "I don't know him. How could you ask me to live with him?"

Elsie swallowed hard and looked at the Headmistress. "I'm withdrawing Gwen from school, effective immediately," she said. "I expect a refund for all fees not used thus far in the school year so they might be put toward a new school in London. I am sorry about the inconvenience, but we will be returning to London tomorrow and I am not leaving Gwen behind."

"Yes, Ms. Hughes –"

Gwen sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "This isn't fair, Auntie Els."

"Life isn't fair, love," Elsie said gently. "How you and I both know that all too well."

Charles cleared his throat. "I can help you load your things into the car when you've packed, Gwen," he said softly, in a very gentlemanly way.

"Why are you marrying Elsie? You're old."

"Gwen!"

Charles held up his hand and said, "I want to marry your aunt because she is a wonderful woman I've come to love very, very much. She is the most beautiful woman in the world to my eyes, and I would never see her harmed. And I hope that, in time, you will allow me to act as an uncle toward you, Gwen."

"So I don't even get a say now?" Gwen asked. "I just have to pack up and come with you?"

Elsie exhaled and closed her eyes. "I'm sure part of you always wondered what would happen if your mam went away, and now it's happened," she said softly, evenly. "I can't promise to be a better mam than she was – only that I will try to do my best by you. And Charlie is part of my life now, and I won't see you mistreat him, Gwen. I won't stand for it."

"Do you know how many times I wished you'd take me home with you?" Gwen asked brokenly. "And now that it's happening – I don't want to go."

"I know, love," Elsie whispered. "I know. They're cremating your mam in the morning and we're going to say a few words and then clean out the flat. There's not much there."

Gwen sniffled miserably and shook her head. "She sold everything that would fetch money," she mumbled. "Even my clothes and the furniture."

Charles sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Well, we'll have to get you the things that you need," he said, "but that won't be a problem. Do you want help packing your things here? I will help."

"I've got to take care of the paperwork," Elsie murmured. "Charles will go help you, love. I promise you with all my heart that everything will be all right soon."

Gwen nodded and gestured for Charles to follow her.

* * *

They ate cockles and periwinkles at a little restaurant near the hotel Charles had arranged for. It seemed odd, suddenly being responsible for someone other than themselves, but Elsie had let Gwen take charge in most of their decisions for the night. Where they ate, which bed Gwen would sleep on in their hotel suite, whether or not they would have dessert up in the room after dinner. Things like that. Hings that made the young woman feel a little more in control of her world.

She looked so small and fragile, much moreso than the last time Elsie had seen her. And Elsie vowed to herself softly that she would do whatever it took to bring a smile back onto her niece's face.

Charles, for his part, encouraged them both in the small things that made them happy. Even a small squeeze of Elsie's hand beneath the table was enough.

They headed back to the hotel after dinner, and Gwen disappeared into the bathroom for a long soak in the tub. Elsie and Charles settled in on the couch and turned on the television to cover up the sounds of their talking.

"You want to move in?" Charles asked.

"Well… I mean, we're getting married and it seems counterproductive not to be in the same place now that I've got Gwen to look after," she sighed. "It just seems like everything is moving so quickly – please don't ask me to pin down a date for the wedding –"

"How about next week?" he asked.

"To move in? I might be able to manag-"

"No," he said, "to get married. Everything will be easier if we are, from a legal standpoint –"

"Charles, I love you, but no," she said. "I feel like I'm going to break and I can't bear the thought of throwing something else onto the pile. It's not going to happen, love."

He sighed. "I really want to take you in there and make you forget your troubles…"

"Gwen," she reminded him gently.

"We're never going to have sex again, are we?" he asked with a frown.

"Not till we get home," she scolded, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he whispered into her hair. "It's not enough… but you're welcome."


	13. Chapter 13

XIII:

Elsie glanced around the bedroom and said, "So… I guess I'll put my things in the second spare room, then –"

"What?" Charles said, his eyes bugging out a little.

"Well, I mean, this is your room – your space," she tried to explain. "I don't want to intrude."

"Els, you've just moved half the contents of your flat into my house - you are a very welcome intrusion, love." He paused, then frowned. "I suppose I should offer to redecorate the spare room for Gwen, shouldn't I? Make her feel more at home –"

"It's a nice room," Elsie said softly. "But, yeah, I think she'd like something a little less… red."

"I cleared the top four drawers for you," he said, blushing a little. "I wasn't sure how much you'd need for your unmentionables and socks."

Her lips twitched and she said, "And you claim you were married, love – you should've just bought a second dresser."

He sighed, but he smiled. "I should have thought of that. Alice was particularly bad about not putting her things away. You'd find bras in the oven and clothes in the couch cushions all the time."

She raised an eyebrow doubtfully. "Well," she sighed, "I am not nearly as flighty as your Alice was, so the most I'll ever be missing is my purse and my meds."

He caught her arm and pulled her close. He leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss. "I love you, Elsie – have I told you how happy I am you've decided to move in?"

"Aye, once or twice," she murmured.

Gwen sighed. "If you two would stop making googly-eyes at each other, there's no food in this place and I'm starving," she muttered from the doorway.

"Oh, well, that will never do," Elsie said.

"I'm sorry," Charles mouthed.

"No don't you dare worry about it," Elsie murmured. "We'll just pop out to the green grocer and I'll make dinner."

"I'd much rather take you both out –" Charles began.

"Darling, you should save your money," Elsie said gently. "Not spend it all on eating out. Especially now you've got more mouths to feed."

"I can't cook," he admitted. "Even beans on toast is a stretch."

She bit her lip, then glibly said, "Oh, my dear, darling man… that's why you're marrying me, isn't it?"

Gwen groaned and stomped off. Charles chuckled and pulled Elsie flush against him in a tender embrace punctuated by a gentle, deep kiss. "I am marrying you because I am hopelessly, deliriously in love with you, my love," he rumbled lowly. "Not for your skills with a microwave."

"Well… maybe a takeaway would be all right tonight," she said softly, "but tomorrow, we're having actual food."

"You do realize that I have to go out as part of my job," he reminded her gently.

"Yes, I know, but –"

"And there will be times when I shall be spoiling you, Ms. Hughes."

She bit her lip, wishing he'd been calling her 'Mrs. Carson' instead. But it was too much, too fast. "I know, Charles," she murmured. "But we've spent all day moving house."

"Beryl isn't too awfully cross, is she?" he asked worriedly.

Elsie shook her head. "I don't think so, anyway."

"Well, if she is –"

"She wants us to be happy," Elsie sighed. "She's really pulling hard for us to be happy and stay in love. I don't have the heart to tell her that I'll probably have you climbing the walls in a few days. She's so used to my foibles she doesn't notice them most of the time anymore."

"I will love all of your foibles," he teased, giving her a sweet kiss. "I love you, Els."

She bit her lip again, nervous suddenly that he would change his mind. "I love you, too, Charles, but –"

"But what, love?"

"It's all very fast, isn't it? I should probably sleep in the second spare for a few days, at least…"

He sighed. "Elspeth," Charles said in a low, earnest tone, "I'm not going to lose my mind over your things in my room, or waking up with your hair in my face. I can't wait for you to make my house – our house – a home. It's only ever been rooms to me. A place to sleep."

She exhaled and bit her lip. "Yes, but –"

"No buts," he said firmly. "I would marry you today if I could, Els. I've been half in love with you since the first time I saw you in the shop – not that you noticed me at all."

"Just call me Captain Oblivious," she quipped lamely. "I was so focused on my work –"

"You look very sexy in your reading glasses, by the by," he said, leaning in and gently kissing the tip of her nose. "My beautiful Elsie."

She leaned into his arms and sighed softly. "I'm sorry I'm such a nutter."

"You aren't," he assured her. "This is all uncharted territory for us both."

"You've been married," she reminded him, somewhat accusingly.

"Yes, but I've never in my life felt like this," Charles admitted.

"Neither have I," she acknowledged, "and it terrifies me."

"Aunt Els, I'm hungry," Gwen whined from down the hall. "Can you guys stop making out so we can go eat? Can we get a pizza?"

Charles sighed and said, "I suppose a pizza wouldn't hurt anything."

Elsie smiled and kissed his cheek. "I suppose not," she agreed. "I love you – I do."

"You're just afraid to take the next step."

"I moved in," she pointed out. "Isn't that a pretty big step?"

"It is," he acknowledged. "Look, I'll go get us a pizza and we can talk later. Or not. It's okay if we don't talk tonight – but we do need to talk soon."

She nodded and leaned into his embrace, sighing lightly. "I love you," she breathed.

"And I you," he agreed.

* * *

It had taken a while to get Gwen to settle in enough to sleep. Elsie had had to stay in the room with her, holding her and assuring her that it would be all right in the end before the girl had finally passed out from sheer exhaustion. After that, Elsie had escaped to the relative calmness of the shower; she was tired, felt grimy, and hated that she didn't feel more like herself. But, no, like her niece, she felt numb and uncertain.

Putting herself so completely into someone else's space and care was enough to make her twitch, ticking internally. She'd never risked trusting anyone as much as she was trusting Charles, and she didn't know if he really realized how scared she was. Loving him was one thing: everything else was another.

She wrapped her fluffy terrycloth robe around her and took a deep breath, trying not to think too hard about the fact that she'd declined to put clothes on beneath the robe. She wasn't a fool: she knew Charles would expect certain things. But, then again, she also knew he would never force her.

He was already in bed when she emerged into the master suite, tucked up under the duvet and sheets in his pajamas. He was tapping relentlessly at his tablet, pausing every so often to swipe at it in a gesture she assumed to be moving something around on the page. He glanced up and said, "Mary's sent me the newest proofs for Sunday's section and I'm rather appalled. Maybe I should write another piece?"

She blushed a little and murmured, "Well, your last major review got you more than you bargained for."

He paused and smirked a little. "That's where you're wrong: it secured all of my dreams for me, yes, but it did not net me more than I could handle. Of course, I've yet to prove or disprove the point…"

She nodded and dug through one of the drawers in search of a pair of knickers, feeling stupid that she'd not taken her things into the bathroom with her. But she was tired and not thinking clearly anymore. "Well… I've certainly gotten more than I ever hoped for."

"Have you?" he questioned gently.

She nodded and sighed. "It's not exactly as if I had a line of men falling all over themselves to kiss my hand and… well… other bits. I'd given up on love a long time ago."

"I feel very honored, privileged, thrilled beyond measure, that you've not given up on me," he said softly.

"I wouldn't give up on you," she murmured, blushing a little as she realized she was either going to strip down to nothing in here or retreat back to the bathroom. "You naughty old flatterer, though – turning my head with thoughts of love."

"Is it working?" he teased.

"Better than you know," she said, her voice suddenly low and earnest. She took her things back into the bathroom before she really had to face him head-on, and changed quickly. She left the bathroom and headed to bed, Charles making a low noise of appreciation as she came closer. "Mr. Carson," she scolded lightly as she climbed into bed beside him, "are you being naughty?"

He pouted like a small boy. "Are you going to scold me?"

She smiled and snuggled up beside him. "No," she murmured. "But I might find a reason to wear less to bed tomorrow night…"

"Oh," he said, blushing bright red. "Well, I –"

She leaned over and gave him a kiss. "Good night, Charlie, love," she breathed.

"Good night, Els," he said back, his voice a low rumble of thunder in her ears as she went to sleep.

* * *

Elsie showed Cora inside and murmured, "Charlie is at work."

"I know, darling – I came to see you and Lady," Cora cooed, stooping down to scratch behind the little dog's ears. "How is your niece?"

"She's… she's fourteen and her mam died. How is she meant to be?" Elsie asked, biting her thumbnail nervously. "She's upset and thinks I'm punishing her – which, for the record, I am not. I just want what's best for her. I always have. God knows the number of times I talked my sister down from hurting that wee girl because she couldn't cope." She sighed and shook her head. "God knows how many times I wished my Becky hadn't had a bairn… for no reason other than I'd not be forced to worry so much."

"Have you ever wanted children of your own?" Cora asked. "You're still young enough –"

Elsie cringed and shook her head. "Ach, no," she interjected, holding up a hand. "I'm definitely too old for such stuff and nonsense. And even if I weren't, I cannae have children. I haven't been able to since I was a child m'self." She smiled bravely, willing the smile to reach her eyes. "Would you like me to put the kettle on, Cora?"

"Tea would be lovely – but, I mean –"

Elsie sighed and shook her head. "Charlie and I are quite all right with just raising Gwen as if she were our own," she said as she led the way to the kitchen. "Or, rather, I am. I'm not sure about Charlie. It all seems too good to be true, like it's all going to blow up in my face. It's only been a few months and we're engaged and moved in together and now we're taking on Gwen… I can't help but feel it's a struggle for him."

Cora sighed. "Well… he'll never admit it, but he's never been very good with handling change. When I was first pregnant with Mary, he hovered over me more even than Robert did. And when we moved house, he threw a tantrum because he had to learn a new route – better yet, he was in Chicago at the time, so it's not like it mattered anyway."

"He's been remarkably good," Elsie murmured. "I just… I don't want him to have a reason to doubt us, this… everything. It's too much all at once."

"He's over the moon," Cora contradicted gently. "It will be all right. You're far too hard on yourself. Besides, Charlie needs someone to keep him honest."

Lady got up from her spot on the floor and hurried out of the room. She came back with Gwen right behind. Gwen was in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, looking tired and sad. "Is there any tea?" she asked with a sigh.

"In a few minutes," Elsie said. "It has to steep, love. Did you sleep well?"

Gwen settled in at the table and shook her head. "Mr. Carson and I got up in the middle of the night and had a snack and a talk."

"Did you, now?" Elsie asked.

Gwen nodded. "He's a nice man."

Elsie bit her lip and looked over at Cora. "Yes, he is…"

"I'm still not thrilled about being here," Gwen muttered.

"Why would you be?" Cora asked. "You've been taken away from your home and –"

"Who are you?" Gwen asked.

"I'm Cora – Charlie's sister," Cora explained briefly. "I just came to see that you and Els are settling in all right."

"We just got here," Gwen said defensively. "We can't very well get settled in if we just got here."

"No, that's certainly true… Tell you what. I bet Charlie just dumped you into the spare room and forgot that's where Lady likes to take her nap on the bed during the day. Let's go get you a new duvet cover and some nicer pillows," Cora chirped. "I'll buy lunch and we'll make a proper girls' day of it."

Gwen gave Elsie a suspicious side-eye, and not that Elsie could really blame her. The poor girl had never had anything just given to her unless it was from her beloved Aunt Els, and she was always suspicious of there being a catch – something to gum up the works. "Okay," Gwen finally agreed after a tense moment, "but who's buying all this stuff?"

"I am," Cora said cheerfully. "Think of it as a housewarming present from Aunt Cora and Uncle Robert –"

"Cora," Elsie said, "you don't have to –"

"Oh, no, I want to," Cora said with a smile. "You're family – or close enough to it."

"Why don't you go get dressed, love?" Elsie said softly, stroking Gwen's arm comfortingly like she'd done since Gwen was a wee babe in arms. "And I'll keep the tea warm." Gwen hesitated, then nodded and went off, Lady on her heels, wuffling happily.

"That dog adores her," Cora pointed out.

"Aye," Elsie said with a smile, "Lady will do her good. I'll be collecting Lizzie and Darcy from the flat tomorrow – we have to set the carriers out a few days in advance so they'll get used to them before we lock them up." She sighed. "I'm afraid Charlie is going to think we're a right circus now –"

"Not a bit of it," Cora said firmly. "He's already planning a dinner party for next Saturday evening…"

"This is the first I'm hearing of it," Elsie said, frowning.

"I think it's meant to be a surprise for you," Cora teased. "But you can pretend you know nothing."

Elsie slapped her hand against her forehead and winced. "Fuck," she muttered. "Saturday is my birthday. How did I forget that?"

Cora laughed. "You've had a lot on your mind, darling. I think what you need now is to go get something new and shiny for the party, and I'll have to tell Charles I spoiled everything."

Elsie blushed and hesitated a moment. "Double fuck. I don't know the alarm code and I don't have a key yet. We can't go anywhere –"

Cora rolled her eyes. "Hello," she said. "Sister. I know the code and I have keys. You just don't want to go shopping."

Gwen came back into the room. It was painfully obvious that she'd not had new clothes in quite some time, and the ones she was wearing were horribly oversized, like they'd been plucked out of a second-hand shop with no thought to her actual size. It broke Elsie's heart to see it.

"Oh no, we're definitely going shopping," Elsie said firmly.

Gwen bit her lip and said, "I like my tea black, no sugar."

Cora poured and they enjoyed a simple cuppa before they headed out.


	14. Chapter 14

XIV:

Elsie sighed and looked across the table at Beryl, who seemed about ready to drop. "I don't know what to do about Gwen," she murmured. "She's been awful. If she's not storming off and slamming the door, she's poking at her food and glaring at Charles and me like we've ruined her life."

"Well, no offense, but maybe it seems to her that you have – you were a child, weren't you? You resented your mum, I'm sure; most of us do," Beryl said, stifling a yawn. "Now, you're not her mum, but you might as well be from now on, and you've asked for it."

Elsie rolled her eyes and took a drink of her espresso. "I'm actually frightened to find out how much worse it will get before it gets better," she admitted. "And Charles keeps snapping at me for no reason."

"I'm sure it's not for no reason –"

"I overcooked his steak last night," Elsie sighed, rubbing her forehead. "He let it rip then, and he stormed out and ran to the pub instead. I mean, god knows I'm not amazing in the kitchen, but he didn't have to be rude. I can't do rare, clearly."

Beryl reached over and patted her hand. "I'm sorry. Do you want some pointers?"

Elsie scowled at her. "Now you sound like him."

Beryl's lips twitched in obvious amusement; Elsie wanted to slap the smirk off her friend's bloody face. "Yes, well… you're wonderful with coffee and mostly shit with everything else," she reminded her gently. "It doesn't hurt to admit it once in a while, love."

"Yes," Elsie mumbled, "it does. It hurts to admit that I'm a failure, especially to him."

"The last thing you are is a failure, Elspeth Hughes," Beryl said. "You've given him a reason to grow the fuck up and be a man, haven't you? And you pulled your knickers up and got over your fears…"

"I really haven't," Elsie mumbled. "If anything, they're that much worse for being right there with him."

"You're entirely too hard on yourself."

"We had a bloody row over me drying Gwen's and my tights in the bathroom," Elsie said. "Is that something that normal adults fight over? I don't think so." She looked into the depths of her mug and murmured, "I think we should entertain the idea of Gwen and I moving back in with you. I was a fool to think that Charles and I could work."

"Are you blinking daft?" Beryl scoffed. "A couple of arguments doesn't ruin a relationship. Believe me, Els. What ruins a relationship is the partners not being very partner-like. He adores you; practically worships the ground you walk on, love. And you love him back in a much less demonstrative way because you're scared to give yourself completely. You need to talk. You need to tell him what you expect from your marriage, and he needs to tell you the very same. How is your sex life?"

Elsie blushed and cleared her throat. "I… don't know how to answer that question," she admitted.

"Please tell me you at least have had sex," Beryl sighed.

"We have."

"Oh, thank god – you're not a complete waste," Beryl teased.

"You're not helping," Elsie muttered. "Yes, we've had sex – it's good, it's… very good. The best, actually. The best I've ever – fuck, why am I telling you this?"

"Because you don't think you can tell him?" Beryl replied. "So the problem is clearly not physical between you two, so it's obviously emotional. He's a stunted, stuck in his ways man, and you're a very aggressive, go-getting type of a woman. So there are bound to be a few bumps in the road along the way, aren't there?"

Elsie finished her coffee and sighed. "I don't want him to regret caring about me if it falls apart," she admitted very quietly. "I don't want to hurt him, but I keep doing it unintentionally."

"Bloody tell him the truth, then – don't just half-ass it, Els," Beryl advised. "And don't you dare think you can just up and move back in with me. I'm letting the other room to your Daisy's father-in-law starting next week. His wife died and he sold his house up Harrogate to come to London and be closer to Daisy and William when the baby comes."

Elsie groaned. "Bloody hell, you don't waste any time, do you –"

"It's a favor for them," Beryl said defensively. "Not like Mr. Mason will give two tosses about my old round arse. Now… your Charlie's going to go by my shop in about ten minutes to get his pie for lunch, then he'll be coming by here for his coffee. So you better think about what you intend to say to him."

With that, Beryl finished her cocoa and left to help handle the lunch rush. Elsie went back behind the counter and brewed something special for Charles and waited patiently for him to come in and turn his charm offensive on Daisy. She didn't have to wait long for his arrival, nor was she surprised to see Sybil Branson with him, since she had taken a position as his assistant editor to come back to England.

"What would you like, miss?" Daisy inquired sweetly. "Mr. Carson, Elsie already made you something."

Charles looked at Elsie and grumpily muttered, "And how does she know what I want?"

"Uncle Charlie, that's very unkind of you," Sybil commented. "I'll have whatever Elsie would like to make me."

"That'll be five pound ten," Elsie said over to Daisy. "For the charity box, not for the till."

Sybil smiled and handed over some money which Daisy put into the charity box. "I suppose I'll have to come in with Uncle Charlie more often –"

"You're family," Elsie commented. "You're entitled to Tom's share of free drinks now. Just as Charles is entitled to mine."

There was a long pause, then he said, "So you still want to –"

She swallowed hard and nodded. "Just because we've argued is no reason to call things off."

"Yes, well, I thought when you screamed that you'd rather be anywhere else on earth than sharing a bed with me –"

"I was upset," she said, cutting him off, "and you say things you don't mean when you're upset, don't you?"

He frowned, then exhaled a terse sigh. "I suppose we should go out tonight – somewhere very public so neither of us overreact – and talk about this."

She nodded and bit her lip. "For what it's worth, I am sorry for ruining your steak."

"I don't care about the steak," he muttered, taking the coffee she passed over the counter to him. "I really don't. I care about all the other things – but we'll talk about that tonight, I guess."

"Charlie –"

"No, Elsie," he said. "Not now. You're working. We'll talk tonight." His tone was quiet, curt, and dismissively defeated – as if he'd already given up the fight.

"Charles," she whispered, "I love you."

He merely shifted his coffee to his other hand and said, "Tonight, Els. We'll talk tonight."

* * *

The thought of losing him completely was enough to shake her to the core. Elsie had never in her life given anyone the right, let alone a reason, to be so close to her, to have all of the means and ability to decimate her entirely. And it scared her so much to be up close and personal with someone who had that ability at all – though she'd given it to him in the first place.

The waiter poured their wine and retreated. She bit her lip nervously and looked down at her hands, nervously folded in her lap. "I don't know where to begin," she murmured. "It's all my fault. All of this. And I don't know what to do to make things better."

He was running his fingertip around the rim of his wineglass, avoiding eye contact. "It isn't entirely your fault and you shouldn't take it all on your shoulders. I was unreasonable about the food. And it's been years since I walked into a washroom full of tights and bras… I might have overreacted."

"I think we both did," she admitted. "And I'm ashamed of myself. I didn't mean to hurt you –"

"I had uncomfortable shades of my first marriage," he muttered. "That's not what I want for us, Elsie. To hold things in until we explode and then hate one another –"

"I don't want that either," she interjected, looking over at him with a sinking feeling of heartbreak coming over her. "Least of all for you, Charlie. I love you and if we can't be happy together… I want you to be happy without me. Because I do love you. More than I've ever loved anyone in my life. I'm sorry. I am so very sorry. I'm sorry that I hurt you. I'm sorry that I ruined things between us. I am sorry. I cannae say more than that."

He exhaled heavily, then took a drink of wine. "I am not a man prone to sharing my feelings," he said, his voice low and thick. "And, as such, I am particularly bad at it, I think. You didn't ruin anything, Elsie: I did. Work has been… awful. And then I come home and you and Gwen are at each others' throats. I am not used to… sharing my space anymore." He swallowed hard, still refusing to meet her eyes. "You've gone off me, I'm sure, by now."

"No," she was quick to reassure him, her voice high and tight as she fought hard not to lose her composure. "You might be a bit of a… grumpy old curmudgeon," she admitted softly, reaching over to touch his hand. He finally looked up, meeting her gaze. "But I love you for it. You're _my_ grumpy old curmudgeon, Charlie, and that makes all the difference." She chewed on her lip nervously, then pulled her hand away. He reacted quickly, almost violently, taking her hand and holding it as though he'd found a lifeline.

"I knew you were angry," he said very softly, "but the thought that you meant those horrible things you said – and that I was feeding it right back to you – almost killed me, Elsie. I love you; maybe more than I can ever say or show you. And I can't bear the thought of not having you now that we've tasted a bit of bliss together." Charles looked down at their hands, clasped tightly together. "I am sorry, love."

She reached up with her left hand and gently covered their clasped hands, showing him that she still wore her engagement ring. "You're a ridiculously grumpy curmudgeon and I'm a ridiculously repressed ninny," she whispered. "But I've not gone off you and I… I cannae give you up, either. I wouldnae want to."

He licked his lips nervously, then said, "Then we should have a nice meal and just enjoy being together. Maybe go home and have a cuddle. And tomorrow… we'll get up and start over again."

"Is it that simple?" she asked, biting her lip again. "Can it be that simple, Charlie?"

"I think we should make it that simple," he said softly. "Or this is going to fester – and I don't want that. I don't think you do, either."

"No, I don't," she whispered. "I've been bloody miserable, thinking that you couldn't possibly love me anymore after I was so… after I behaved like an uncivilized savage toward you."

He smiled just a little, then said, "You're very sexy when you're cross."

She tossed her head and rolled her eyes. "What a silly thing to say." She smiled a little back at him, then murmured, "How does Christmas Eve sound?"

"For what?"

"Our wedding?"

He paused, looking like he might protest, then the smile became much larger and his eyes lit up. "I think… it sounds like the most wonderful day of my life, Elspeth Hughes."

"Mine, too," she murmured, blushing shyly and squeezing his hand with both of hers.

* * *

When they got home, Gwen was sitting on the couch, watching Doctor Who from one of her DVDs and stroking Lady's furry belly. She looked up at her aunt and soon to be uncle and sighed. "I suppose you want me to clear out so you can make out on the sofa," she muttered.

Charles's brow furrowed. "No… why would you think that?" he asked. He was still unsure about living with an almost-teenager, but certainly none of his experiences had ever trained him for this mess. Gwen was as hostile as Alice had ever been, and in such a small package, to boot!

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Mum would go out and then kick me to my room because she wanted to have sex," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Well, I'm not your mam," Elsie said, "and you're welcome to stay up watching your show since tomorrow is Saturday."

Seeing the way Gwen was treating Elsie, something in him snapped. "Gwen, pause it," he ordered. When the girl had stopped the show, Charles said, "Let's get something clear, shall we? Your aunt and I want nothing but the best for you. I understand that you're used to being allowed to do whatever you want, but here, there are rules – and they are for your well-being. We trusted you enough to leave you alone tonight, but there are limits. The way you treat Elsie is not acceptable."

"She's not my mum, and you aren't my dad," Gwen snapped.

Elsie opened her mouth, but Charles stilled her with a look. "No, I am not," he said, "but I have every intention of adopting you after Els and I get married, and then I will be your father in the eyes of the law."

Elsie blinked and inhaled sharply. "You never told me –"

"It was meant to be a wedding gift," he said. "My point being… we care about you, Gwen, and this behavior of yours isn't helping anything."

He realized his misstep just as soon as the slip of a girl got off the couch and turned red in the face. "My behavior?" Gwen hissed. " _My behavior_? What about _hers_?" she snapped, pointing at Elsie. "I _hate_ her. She says she loves me, but she _never_ protected me from my mum. She _never_ took care of me. She says she tried, but I don't think she ever did. I heard her tell mum once that I was a _mistake_! That mum should never have had me – well, she did, and I'm here, and I hate you, Aunt Elsie. _I hate you_. You don't love me – you never have. _I WANT MY MUM_. At least she loved me."

Elsie was already in silent, miserable tears, and Charles couldn't stand it. "No, Gwen," he said softly, "your mother didn't love you like you think she did. The food on the table, the Ribena in the fridge, the clothes on your back… they all came from money Elsie gave your mum to take care of you. She may have taken all the credit, but Elsie is the one who did all of the giving. She couldn't take you from your mum without court orders and edicts and more paperwork than anyone should ever have to deal with, so she did what she could to keep you safe. She's paid your school fees every year since you were old enough to go to school – I've seen her records, Gwen. No – don't look away from me and pretend you aren't hearing me." He gently took the girl by the shoulders and squared her in front of him, looking down at her. "Your Aunt Elsie loves you very much. And so do I." He took a deep breath and prayed he wasn't causing more issue. "Now go tell her you're sorry."

Gwen was red-faced and blubbering, tears rolling down her cheeks as she flung herself into Elsie's arms. "I don't hate you, Aunt Elsie –"

"I know, little one," Elsie choked out, holding her. "I know, but it still hurts to hear it when you say it. I'm sorry – I am so sorry I failed you, Gwendolyn Hughes. I should have done more. I should have done so much more –"

"I love you," Gwen whispered. "I'm sorry."

Charles inhaled deeply and patted his leg to draw Lady's attention. "Come on, girl, let's go have a walk and let your girls talk a while," he said, retrieving the leash from its home in the key bowl.

He ended up at the pub, out back in the garden with the owner – John Bates – and a pint. "I need to retire," Charles confessed. "I don't know how I can keep with Elsie and Gwen – teenagers, Jesus help me – and the paper, too. I'm just too old for this crap, John."

Bates laughed. "I think it's funny that you're the one saying this about an incredibly gorgeous woman and her niece… when I'm still single and tending bar getting hit on by drunks every night. I'd give anything to be in your shoes, mate."

Charles gave him a dour look. "I can introduce you to someone. My goddaughter, Edith –"

"No, thank you, I'm good," John said, raising his glass. "I'm just saying, take your blessings where you can find them, Charlie. None of us are getting any bloody younger."

Charles finished his pint. "Tell the truth, Robert has asked me to consider going into retirement. He wants to sell the paper. It's not as profitable as he'd like it to be, and he's had a good offer. Apparently, my burgeoning romance with Elsie bumped the numbers a bit, but the whole venture is on the verge of failing altogether. He hasn't told his children yet, but… god knows they'll fight him on it tooth and nail."

John nodded, listening. "Well… I can't say that retirement would be an entirely bad venture. I could always offer you a job mopping tables at the end of the day or whatever – as soon as I've paid you back the loan to keep this place afloat, that is."

Charles smiled wanly. "Support your local," he said, lifting his empty glass, then remembering he'd already drained it. "I suppose I should take Lady home and go have a cuddle with Els."

John raised an eyebrow. "I didn't have you down as a snuggler."

"You shouldn't have had me down as anything, Mr. Bates," Charles scoffed. "Thanks for the drink. I hope that gave them enough time to work things out. Otherwise, I might be looking for someone to clean blood off the walls."

"Teenagers," Bates muttered. "Can't live with them, can't murder them in their sleep."

Charles laughed and carried his glass inside, leaving it on the bartop as he left. He strolled along the street with Lady, walking the few blocks back down the way to the house. It had been a long, trying day, and he really wanted to curl up under the blankets with Elsie and just hold on for dear life – to reassure himself that everything would be okay.

She met him at the front door with a hungry kiss and a whisper of, "I love you."

And suddenly, he knew that everything might just be all right again.


	15. Chapter 15

XV:

It was nearly noon when Elsie dragged herself out of bed. Charles had taken Gwen to school and Anna had opened the shop. The flu had caught up with her with a horrible vengeance; her fever, chills, and nausea were enough to remind her of the radiation treatments she'd suffered through not long before. The bone-deep weariness frightened her in a way that the cancer never had.

She stumbled downstairs to make herself a cup of broth, hoping that Charlie had a few things in the cupboard. Crackers, bullion, and maybe some aspirin.

It was nearly five when she woke up on the sofa, never having actually made it to the kitchen. She was shivering and shaking, her fever having risen yet again, and she whimpered.

The last time she'd felt this badly, it was in the aftermath of her miscarriage and subsequent surgery. Seventeen years old, having everything she was meant to have as a woman ripped away – and her boyfriend who had said he wanted to marry her had turned away in disgust, anger, apathy, and had begun making cow's eyes at her little sister. It was the beginning of the end of wishing, wanting, hoping, leaving herself behind and carefully building up walls upon walls upon walls of preservation to hide her deepest heart.

She ended up on the floor, tangled up in a blanket, tears streaming down her cheeks. Elsie didn't even know why she was crying: such pains were so long ago set aside that she'd even forgotten in some ways that they'd occurred at all. Her head ached, her heart ached, and she merely wanted her Charlie to come home and hold her again.

"Els, what on earth?" Charlie said as he came into the living room and found her on the floor. "Are you all right, love?"

She looked up at him through hazy, fevered eyes. "I'm fine," she lied unsteadily. "It's cooler on the floor." Lady was splayed out on the floor, watching her with sad eyes. Elsie glanced back up at Charles and blinked, hardly registering what was going on until she was in his arms and the rooms were rushing past her at dizzying speed.

"You will lie in bed," Charlie said softly, "and I will go get some soup at the shops."

"I'm not hungry," she protested. "I feel terrible."

"Terrible is a far cry from fine," he scolded.

"Oh, believe me, I am aware of that," she mumbled, closing her eyes as he tucked her in beneath the duvet. "Did you pick Gwen up?"

"Gwen is staying over with Cora and Robert tonight, since you aren't well," Charlie said. "Now… soup."

She blinked at him. "Chicken is fine," she said, exhaling and burrowing deeper under the covers. "And crackers."

Charles leaned in and gently stroked her face, pushing her hair back out of her face. "Will you be all right if I leave to get the food?" he asked in a soft tone. "Will you stay put in bed?"

"Aye," she answered to both questions, leaning into his touch.

"You're still burning up," he sighed. "My poor Els – I should've stayed home."

She tried to shoo him away, but he wasn't having any of it. He made sure she was comfortable before he left, and she stared up at the ceiling, too miserable and apathetic to care anymore. When he came back bearing a tray, she had worked herself back into a misery.

"Come now," he whispered, "why so many tears?" He sat down and began to help her eat. "You'll be fine in a couple of days. I'm sorry it's not sooner, but –"

She gently held up a hand to stay him. "When I was young, I was ill with flu," she admitted quietly. "I was pregnant. Lost the baby, nearly bled to death because of complications. I… still – Charlie, I'm sorry."

He was watching her with soft, sad eyes. "I am sorry, as well," Charlie said gently. "I am sorry you went through such pain, Elsie. And alone, I'd wager –"

"Mam went ballistic and Joe dumped me," Elsie muttered. "And Becky didn't understand – or really care to."

"Did you want the baby?" Charlie asked.

She swallowed hard, then shook her head, the action making her dizzy. "I wanted Joe," she said quietly. "At the time, anyway. He didn't really want the baby, either, but the not having made him pull away. It was my fault that I lost it, you see… and then he took Becky on." She sighed. "I feel horrible for saying I didn't want my own child, but I was a child still. I didn't know what I wanted, really. I thought I loved Joe, but I didn't. Not really. Not like I love you, Charlie. If it had been you and I and a bairn… I might have thought completely differently. I don't know."

"Alice never wanted children," Charlie said. "And I never wanted to push her into something she would resent later. I didn't realize until far too late that she resented _me_." He tucked her hair back behind her ear and sighed. "You and I would have made funny looking children with far too much personality – and it would have been such a splendid family, Els." He smiled and gently tapped his nose. "Can you imagine children with this nose running about? They'd have been made fun of every day of their childhood."

"I had horrid teeth," Elsie confessed, giggling a little. "We'd've had little buck-toothed bairns with enormous noses and such strong wills…"

He leaned in and gave her a tender kiss on the forehead. "Eat up, Elsie," Charlie encouraged gently. "So you can feel better, darling."

She sighed and opened her mouth like a wee bird, allowing him to feed her soup as if she were an invalid.

* * *

"Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Carson, but you've a visitor in the lobby," Joan, Charles's secretary, said, poking her head into a layout meeting. "She says her name is Mrs. Clare –"

Charles sighed and rose from the table. "I'll be right back, Mary, Sybil – I'm expecting an advertiser," he commented wryly. "They're cold-calling now."

"Of course, Uncle Charlie," Mary said graciously. "Maybe we can come to an amicable agreement while you're away."

Charles rolled his eyes and sighed. "Maybe we can come to an amicable agreement at some point," he said. "But it won't be when I am not in the room." He put his suit jacket back on and headed out into the corridor. "Will you call Elsie and make sure she remembers we have reservations at Le Fee Verte tonight, Joan? And confirm a 7pm pizza delivery for Gwen at my home?"

"Of course, Mr. Carson," Joan said with a smile. "Anything else?"

"Yes – make certain that Mary doesn't run rough-shod over poor Sybil," he ordered gruffly. "There are to be no decisions about the layout until I approve them. Even Mary must give me that much respect." He adjusted his tie and stepped into the waiting elevator. "I'll be back shortly."

He alit from the elevator in the lobby and stopped dead in his tracks. "Alice," he croaked. "What on earth are you doing here?"

She smiled wanly. "Does a wife need an excuse to –"

He held up his hand and curtly snapped, "Ex-wife. Divorced. You walked out, remember?" He pinched the bridge of his nose against the impending headache, and said, "What do you want?"

"Well, I'm in London on business and I thought I would drop by and see you – maybe rekindle our friendship…"

"Let me guess: your boy toy finally got tired of you having a bigger ego than his and dropped you like a hot potato?" he asked sarcastically.

"You don't have to be cruel," she hissed.

He crossed his arms defensively across his chest. "I am done with you, Alice," Charles said quietly. "You broke my heart and you didn't give a damn. Well, now I don't care. I have moved on from you. I'm getting married in two weeks' time, Alice, so we shan't be 'rekindling' anything."

A dark stain of jealousy painted her face, and she sneered. "Oh, I see –"

"No, you don't," Charles snapped. "I am not the same man you walked away from. But you definitely seem to be the same woman that walked away from me."

"She doesn't know you like I do," Alice laughed. "This woman –"

"Don't," Charles growled. "Don't you dare, Alice. Elsie knows what you've done."

"Oh, I'm sure she knows what you've told her I've done – but did you tell her that you pushed me away? Did you admit any of your complicit guilt? Or are you the perfect white knight in her eyes?"

"Excuse me, but I think you need to take this outside, Charles," Robert commented as he broke away from a group and came over.

"Robert, you remember Alice," Charles grunted irritably.

Robert blinked. "Alice, yes – good to see you. Charles, we have a meeting in ten minutes, remember?"

"Yes, I remember – I was just seeing Mrs. Clare out," Charles said. "Alice, let me –"

"No, I'm fine," Alice growled. "And I'll see you again, Charlie, love… don't think I'll give up that easily."

Charles scoffed. "Fine," he said, "but you should know that I love Elsie very much and I don't care what you get up to – it won't come between us."

Alice smirked at him. "Oh, Charlie, darling… I wanted to introduce you to your daughter, but now I think I'll just keep her all to myself. Ta ta, love." He stared at her blankly, then lunged for her as the doors slid closed just in front of his face.

"Fuck," he spat. "Shit. BALLS."

"She's obviously lying," Robert commented dryly.

Charlie took out his handkerchief and mopped his brow, feeling weak and sick to his stomach. "And if she isn't?" he said very quietly.

"Then she deserves what she gets," Robert muttered. "She wants to wind you up so you won't marry Elsie; it's very obvious that she doesn't care who she hurts to get what she wants. In this case, she wants you and she's desperate to win you back."

"I hate that bitch," Charlie spat furiously.

"That makes two of us," Robert agreed. "Come on – let's get you a drink to steady your nerves."

* * *

Elsie came out of the loo, wielding a mop and bucket, wearing heavy duty gloves and looking every bit a mess. She was just pleased that she'd managed to avoid calling a plumber – some bloody damn customer had clogged the toilet with unspeakable mess. But she'd managed to save the day… again.

Daisy was handing several customers their coffee and smiling. "Thank you for coming in," she said excitedly. "We're adding new beans this week, so please come back and see what we're doing!" Once the customers were on their way out, she stifled a giggle and said, "Oh, Els, you smell like –"

"I'm sure I do," Elsie said, fighting not to laugh, as well. "But at least the toilet works again."

The bell rang, signaling another customer's entry. Elsie hurried to the cupboard to put away the cleaning supplies, and hoped she could change clothes and still manage to carry out her shift and not trigger too many people with the smell.

When she came back out, Daisy was chatting amiably with a tall, thin blonde with an acerbic smile. Elsie gave pause, knowing she'd seen that face somewhere before. Suddenly, it hit her between the eyes, and she said, "Alice – it is Alice, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry, do we know one another?" Alice asked, turning the sour smile onto Elsie.

"Only through Charlie," Elsie said, her wan smile coloring her face.

"Oh, you know my Charlie, then?" Alice cooed. "I've just been to see him – we're getting back together, you know – about our dear Susan… we have a daughter, you know."

Elsie felt the blood draining from her face. "Oh," she said quietly. "Well…"

Alice blinked. "Oh – Elspeth – Elsie – you must be –"

Elsie took a step back. "Yes, I am, and you cannae take him away that easily with lies and –"

Alice glared at Elsie. "Susan is not a lie," she spat. "I gave birth during the divorce proceedings. He was already in the UK, so I don't even know why he would have a claim to my child – but I want her to know her father. I want us to be a family – and, really, so does Charlie. So I would advise you to pack your bags and get away from him."

"Get out," Elsie hissed. "Get out of my shop. Now. Get out."

Alice smirked. "You have no idea what you're doing, do you?"

Elsie's grip on her mug was so tight her knuckles were white. "Get out," she repeated, her voice shaking and much less sure than it had been moments before. "Leave us alone."

"Leave us alone?" Alice mocked. She brandished her phone like a weapon and said, "Do you want to see pictures of my daughter? There is no doubt that Charlie is her father – and you can tell him that. Tell him that I'll take her and disappear, so help me god –"

Elsie looked at the photograph and felt her heart shatter. "She is a lovely young woman," she whispered. "She looks like her da."

"Yes, she does," Alice agreed. "And she's always wanted to meet him."

Elsie shook her head and said, "He deserves to know her. But I'm sure she doesn't know that you're the entire reason she doesn't know him. You've lied and manipulated them both – all of that poor girl's life. And if I were Charlie, I would sue you for custody of her, as you are clearly unfit to be a responsible parent! How dare you walk into my shop and tell me to break things off with the only man I have ever truly loved? How fucking dare you threaten to disappear with his child into the sunset? Who the fuck do you think you are?" She was overstepping the line and she knew it – but she was not going to back down. This bitch was not going to ruin her Charlie's life twice if she had anything to say about it.

"Who are you to speak for him?" Alice snapped.

Elsie took one more step forward until she was right in Alice's face. "I am his wife in all but name," she hissed, "and if you ever think that you will hurt my Charlie again, I will find you and I will make your life a living hell. Now what you're going to do is bring Susan to Le Fee Verte at eight this evening, and you will leave her with her father. You will walk away and give Charlie back his parental rights. You will not interfere with him raising that girl, and you will not come back into her life again. You will not hurt my family again, or I will give you cause to regret it."

"What are you going to do?" Alice scoffed.

Elsie pursed her lips together and said, "I can tell your profession from your clothes. Men won't spot it, but I know. I serve escorts and call girls every day. Charlie's daughter deserves better than being dragged around, place to place, by a mother who has never cared enough for her child to allow her a happy home with a father who would go to the end of the world for her." Alice reacted as if she'd been slapped, but she didn't deny anything Elsie had said. "Please, Alice, let us care for Susan," Elsie murmured. "She deserves so much more."

Alice glared at her, then turned on her heel and stalked away angrily. Elsie let out a breath she didn't even realize that she'd been holding, and looked at Daisy. "I… he's going to hate me," Elsie exhaled weakly. "Alice is going to take that girl and run –"

Daisy swallowed hard and murmured, "I don't know what's going on, but you need to go home so you can be ready for dinner. Maybe she'll meet you there?"

Elsie exhaled weakly and murmured, "Charlie is never going to forgive me."

* * *

Charles finished his steak and glanced at Elsie. "Love?" he said softly. "Is everything all right?"

She shook her head and pushed her chicken round the plate again. "I met your ex-wife today. She came into the shop."

His hand started shaking so badly that he spilled some wine on the table. "Elsie, please tell me she didn't – that she didn't do anything to hurt you –"

"No, she didn't hurt me," Elsie murmured. "But I might have done something that you'll not forgive so easily."

"Els, what –"

Their waiter came to the table and said, "Excuse me, Ms. Hughes, there is a woman in the lobby to see you."

Elsie jumped to her feet, almost knocking over her chair. "Charlie, belay that," she exclaimed, following the waiter out to the foyer. "Alice –"

Alice stood there, looking tired and sad. "Elsie," she said. "I took Susan's things to Cora and Robert." She looked at the young woman who was at her elbow. "And you can collect them when you see fit." She smiled forlornly, then kissed her daughter on the cheek. "I want you to remember, always, that I did my best," Alice said. "But your father will do better." She looked up at Elsie, and added, "And Elsie will do better than I ever could."

Susan frowned, but didn't cry or show any kind of emotion toward her mother at all. "I'm sorry, mum, that you felt this was necessary –"

"I love you," Alice murmured, and then she was gone.

Susan turned at looked at Elsie. "Hello," she said shyly. "I'm Susan Carson."

Elsie bit her lip and murmured, "Yes, you are – and your father will be so happy to see you."

Elsie led the teenager through the restaurant and back to the table. "Charlie," she said softly, "I did something inexcusable… and I spoke for you." She took a deep breath, then murmured, "This is Susan – your daughter. Alice has relinquished her parental rights, or will do soon, and –"

"Hello, dad," Susan said, smiling a little. "I've always wanted to meet you…"

Charles just sat there, gobsmacked. Finally, he picked up his glass of wine and drained it in a long swallow, then sat it down again. "Elsie," he began, but faltered. "Elspeth Hughes," he tried again, "I have never loved anyone more than I love you right now."

Elsie bit her lip and began to cry. Charles scooped her up and swung her around, laughing. "How did you –"

Susan tugged on his jacket and said, "Could I get something to eat?"

He set Elsie back down and enveloped his daughter in his arms. "Absolutely," he promised gently. "And pudding, besides – Phillip, can we bring over another chair? My daughter –" he was fairly beaming with the word, " – is joining our party."

Elsie settled back into her seat and finally found her appetite.


	16. Chapter 16

XVI:

"I'm afraid we don't have anywhere much to put you to sleep tonight," Charles said as he opened the front door to the house. "We've only just gotten adjusted to Elsie's niece, Gwen, having moved in…"

"You've only just," Elsie pointed out in a teasing tone. She leaned over and whispered, sotto voce, to Susan, "He's still adjusting to tampons in the cupboards and tights on the rails to dry."

Susan bit her lip and nodded, clutching the bag that held all of her things tightly in her fists. "I'll be good and not leave anything lying about," she whispered.

"Will an airbed in the office be okay?" Elsie asked gently. "We can make up the sofa in the den, if you'd like, but the airbed is more comfortable –"

Susan murmured, "It's okay. Whatever is less work for you, Ms. Elsie."

Elsie looked hopelessly at Charles. The teenager was impossibly polite and obedient, unlike Gwen, and it made her wonder just what Alice had let her get up to – or not get up to, as the case might have been. She knew a rod of iron influence when she saw it, and she did not like the haunted look in the child's eyes.

"How about the sofa tonight and the airbed tomorrow?" Elsie suggested. "And we'll get you enrolled in schoo-"

"No, it's okay, you don't have to," Susan said. "I've got my transcripts in my bag. I've already taken my A levels and graduated."

Elsie blinked. "How old are you, love?" she asked, trying not to be indelicate.

"Sixteen," Susan murmured. "I took them two years ago."

Charles blinked. "Well, then, we'll have to see about getting you into university –"

"You don't have to," Susan said softly. "I'm just as happy to go work."

"Well, that's not going to happen," Charles said quickly. "But Rome wasn't built in a day, Susan, and we have time to talk and make plans, don't we?"

Susan hesitated, then licked her lips, and said, "Yes. I guess so."

Elsie said, "Charlie, why don't you take Lady out for her walk, and I'll show Susan where everything is? And tomorrow is Saturday, so the three of you can have breakfast out somewhere nice since I'm overseeing the delivery at the shop."

"We could do that," Charles said. "Would you like that, Susan?"

The girl nodded. Elsie looked over at Charles and shrugged at his worried look. She didn't know anymore than he did how best to reach the tall, gauntly thin girl with jet black hair and piercing grey eyes. It didn't matter, though: what mattered was that she was in their care now, and that they had been entrusted to treat her in the best manner they possibly could. "Come on, love, let's go pick your sheets and introduce you to Gwen," Elsie murmured, gently putting her arm around Susan's waist and guiding her toward the upstairs. "The dog is probably in with Gwen –"

"You have a dog?" Susan said, suddenly panicked. "I don't like dogs – they don't like me – that's not okay –"

"Lady loves everyone," Elsie said gently, "and she's not a big, scary dog. If she gets unruly, I will hold her back. It will be all right," she soothed as they walked upstairs. "Did something bad happen to you involving a dog, love?"

"Mum had a boyfriend who kept big, mean dogs," Susan whispered. "One of them attacked me – I spent a week in the hospital and they thought I might lose my leg. I was three. I just remember teeth and pain and I'm so scared of dogs now –"

Elsie nodded and led her into the office. "You stay right here. I'll put Lady on her leash and take her down to your dad," she promised. "I know everything is new and frightening enough without adding to it, love."

Susan frowned. "Why are you being so nice to me? Why is he being so nice to me? You don't know me –"

"No, not yet," Elsie acknowledged gently, "but you are a part of the family now, and that means loving and respecting you as a person. I'm not sure your mother ever realized that."

"Don't talk about my mom," Susan said. "You don't know anything about her – or me – or what we've lived through together."

"No," Elsie said, "I don't. And I don't know what she told you about your father, either. But we'll learn it all together, won't we?"

Susan hesitated, then pushed her hair back out of her face. "Please tell me she's not coming back," she said quietly. "Please tell me she can't take me away again."

Elsie said, "I don't know what's going to happen, Susan, but if she thinks she can just waltz back in here and take you away from your father – who has a steady job, excellent income, and has already proven he can manage a teenager – she is in for a bloody rude awakening." She went back into the hallway and rooted around in the linen cupboard for a set of single sheets for the sofa. She came up with yellow and white striped sheets and a heavy blanket to match. "Hopefully, this will keep you warm – and your father keeps a spare pillow right there for when he wants a nap," she said, gesturing at the overstuffed couch.

Susan said, "I can make my own bed, Ms. Elsie. The loo is -?"

"Go back into the hall, and turn right – it's the next door down," Elsie said. "You think you'll be all right for tonight? You can borrow my iPad if you want –"

Susan blinked. "I've never used one," she said. "I'll be okay. I've got a book I can read if I can't sleep."

"All right, well… good night," Elsie said softly. "I won't be here in the morning, so it'll just be you, Charles, and Gwen."

"Where will you be going?" Susan asked, eyes wide.

"I have a coffee shop," Elsie said, "and we're receiving a shipment of beans tomorrow – I've got to start roasting some of them immediately, because they only come in once a month." She smiled. "Maybe next time, I'll let you come and help."

"It sounds like fun," Susan murmured, smiling a little.

Elsie came over and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, love – sleep well," she said softly. "You can wake your da or me if you need to – just knock first." With that, she left so the girl wouldn't have to acknowledge the kindnesses. She gathered Lady, said good night to Gwen – who was already half-asleep – and went down to hand the dog off to Charles. "Susan is settled," she said softly. "Make sure you keep Lady on her lead tomorrow, though, till Susan gets used to her," she warned. "She was attacked by a dog when she was just a wee lass, and she's still quite scared."

Charles nodded and said, "We'll be back in a few minutes – just a short walk tonight, I think."

Elsie cleaned up and got ready for bed while he was out; by the time he came home and Lady rushed up into Gwen's room for the night, she was already in bed in her flannelette pajamas, looking every bit the frumpy mom she suddenly felt. Charles came in, shut the door, and started shedding his clothes everywhere – not even caring if they hit the floor or the hamper.

"So," she said softly, "on a scale of one to ten, how was your day?"

He looked up as he was tugging off one particularly stubborn sock, and ended up falling over. "Like that – my day was like that," Charles commented from the floor. "I was visited by my ex-wife, learned I had a daughter, had that snatched away before I could stop her leaving, found out you were threatened by Alice, then randomly, she delivers my daughter into my waiting hands – how did you manage that, by the way?"

"I appealed to her better nature," Elsie muttered, wryly. "No, really, I think she just wanted to be rid of Susan at this point. It can't have been easy trying to raise her alone – and the fact that she managed to keep that girl from you for so long… I can't decide if I admire her or hate her."

"Did she ever say why she did it?" Charles asked, stripping down to his boxers and climbing into bed without preamble.

"Like she would bloody well tell me," Elsie scoffed softly, flipping a page in her book and looking over the top edges of her reading glasses at him. "I'm the enemy, remember? Marrying the man she tossed over so long ago… But I'll tell you what I think, honestly. I think she's fallen into bad circumstances and she came back to London in the hopes of guilting you into taking her back. When that failed – as it inevitably would – she would just chuck Susan at you and run. That child was nothing more than a bargaining chip to her, and she was entirely too quick to give her up. If I had a child of my own, nothing on god's green earth would take them from me, Charles."

He exhaled a deep sigh, then murmured, "Because you are a mother born. She never wanted children. I don't understand why she didn't just _tell me_."

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "but my being sorry doesn't change anything, does it? You still missed many years of your daughter's life, no matter how sorry I am." She closed her book and took her glasses off, setting them aside. "I knew the moment Alice showed me Susan's photo that she was yours. The resemblance is uncanny, Charlie."

He let out a little puff of a sigh. "She looks like my mother," he said quietly. "Stately, elegant, but reserved – except she got this lousy nose of mine…"

"I rather like your nose," Elsie murmured, smiling as she cuddled up against him. "Along with other bits and bobs of you."

"That sounds rather promising, considering we're to be wed soon," he teased, running his fingers over her back. It only took a few moments before his fingertips crept under the hem of her pajama top, creeping over warm skin, eliciting gooseflesh, a shiver, a moan. "Els, I'm sorry."

"For what?" she murmured.

"All the drama."

Her small smile turned into a full-fledged grin. "Oh, I'd say we were due for a bit of drama from your side of the relationship, love," she said. "I don't mind being dethroned as the drama queen once in a while." Her breath hitched when his hand splayed over her lower back, his pinky finger sliding beneath the waistband of her pajama bottoms, teasing the lace edging of her knickers. It was both possessive of him and reassuring himself that she was there, that she loved him. For being such a brashly confident man, he was so very insecure behind closed doors; it was one of the reasons she loved him so deeply. He needed constant reassurance, not unlike herself. "Charlie," she whispered, "it's all going to be all right, you know. It will take getting used to, but everything will work out in the end."

He kissed her deeply, making her toes curl inside her bedsocks. "I love you," he said very softly when they came up for air. "You could have run away – but you ran right at Alice and –"

"Shh," she whispered. "We're in this together, remember?" Elsie smiled and kissed him again, leaving no illusion that he was warming her up far better than the blankets were. "Always, even when we're cross with one another, even when we're cross with the children, even when Lady chews on my slippers."

Charles laughed and continued stroking her back, making her squirm and rub against him. They were both aroused in a low-key, comfortable way, and neither wanted to break the gently sweet contact to stoke the fire; however, the fire was building between them anyway, unbidden. If there was one thing between them that didn't need much work or effort, it was the sex. It was effortless, artless, and completely heartfelt.

"Els," he said in a soft, questioning tone.

"Aye," she murmured back, her hand resting lightly on his bum.

"Your pajamas are in the way."

"They do come off, you daft beggar," she replied.

His hand left her back; she keenly felt its absence. But then his fingers began deftly undoing the buttons of her top and his lips found the skin hidden beneath the flannelette. Rational thoughts of responsibility and duty, of the shop and the girls and everything else fled in a rush of unused words and unruly tangles of forgotten ideas. He kissed down her body and she felt her breath hitch when his stubble grazed over the sensitive flesh of her abdomen. She raised her hips, allowing him to slide her knickers and bottoms down – but they didn't make it past her knees before he was diving in and feasting on her like she was his last meal.

He drove her higher and higher; some little part of her, way back in the back of her mind, wondered if he was trying to atone for sins that weren't in all parts his own. If he held himself responsible for Alice's actions and wanted to prove himself still worthy of love. If he had broken himself inside and this was his way of healing. Even if it was just a ferocious animal intensity to claim her as his own, she could not possibly love him more. Proving himself meant nothing when he had already proven himself in her heart.

She bit her lip so hard she drew blood, trying to stay quiet as the world splintered around her into fractured bits of reality, each reflecting a different shard of bliss and pain. The world centered, righted, and her body still quaked from the sheer magnitude of staring into the face of god.

She tapped the top of his head, gaining his attention, her wetness still sparkling dewy and wet on his skin and stubble. "Come here," Elsie breathed. He shifted, looming over her, overwhelming her small frame with his much larger one. She nibbled on his lips, tiny kisses peppered with bites, encouraging him to open up and let her in. When they finally kissed, properly snogged, it was with so much heat that her body clenched, begging for more and more and ever more.

It normally overwhelmed her, having him on top – years of claustrophobia and anxiety taking their toll – but tonight, it felt right. It felt relaxed (in spite of the elevated heart rates, the sweat, the tears, the intensity of their loving); it felt like home. Their kisses soothed her fears, her worries, and the angle of her hips lifted off the bed and her legs braced against his shoulders, made her heart soar as they worked together for mutual pleasure.

It was good; quick, heavy with import, full of emotions she could neither qualify nor quantify, and hotter than any other encounter she'd had in her life. If she'd ever needed another sign that she and Charles were perfectly matched, it was buried deep in the heat between them, just as he was within her.

"I don't want to move," he confessed.

"Then don't," she murmured, stroking his back, not entirely uncomfortable beneath his bulk like a blanket covering her. "I don't want you to go," she confessed softly, knowing that it hurt so badly when he left her alone again.

"I want us to live as closely together as two people can – for the rest of our lives," he said lowly, his breath tickling her ear, sending another shiver down her back. She clenched around him, the aftershock nearly as intense as her orgasm had been, and she marveled at the way he could inspire her to such a response.

"Aye," she agreed, closing her eyes and giving in to the urge to let his heartbeat carry her off to sleep.

* * *

Charles came downstairs in his jeans, a button-down shirt with yellow and grey stripes, and a grey cardigan. He wasn't surprised to see Gwen and Susan facing off across the kitchen bar, seeing as how it was nearly nine, each armed with toast and tea. "Good morning," he greeted. "I'm sorry I slept in – would you like to go get breakfast and go shopping?"

"You hate shopping," Gwen pointed out.

"Yes, but it is Christmas," he reminded her. "Gwen, I see you've met Susan –"

"No, I haven't. I came downstairs with Lady and she was just here, making breakfast," Gwen said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Gwen, this is my daughter, Susan – Susan, this is Elsie's niece, Gwen," Charles said, trying not to fan the flames that could ignite easily between two teenage girls.

"I didn't know you had a kid," Gwen said. "Does Aunt Elsie know?"

"Yes," Charles said, coming over and resting a hand on Gwen's shoulder. "Yes, she does." He inhaled deeply and said, "I know it's asking a lot, but we might need you two to share a room for a while –"

Susan spoke up then, finally. "I don't want to be in the way," she said very quietly.

The pain and frighteningly small way she spoke shattered him; what had Alice done to her? "You are not in the way," Charles said firmly. "Not ever; do you understand?"

Visions of retirement swam before his eyes; of a family, a home, of finally turning out the office and making it into a bedroom again for his only child – And then he scratched that vision, reminding himself that Gwen would be his, as well. They would be sisters, if only tenuously by name and the bond between him and Elsie, but they would be theirs in all the ways that truly counted.

"Now," he said, feeling his voice thickened with emotion, "I think it's time we got ready for the day and get out before the crowds crush in."

* * *

By the time they stopped for lunch at Beryl's, the girls were fast friends, chatting about everything and making keen – if slightly rude – observations about their fellow shoppers. Beryl lifted an eyebrow when the trio walked into her shop, and Charles merely said, "I suppose Elsie told you?"

"Of course she did, you twit," Beryl replied. "But that doesn't matter right now – we'll have a little chat on Monday." He flinched, knowing instinctively that he was likely to get raked over the coals. "Now, what would Auntie B's girls like for lunch? I've got the usual eel pies, pork pie, lentil and vegetable, and a nice whiting and shallots pot pie."

Gwen bounced excitedly – the whiting was her favorite. "I want the whiting, Auntie," she said eagerly.

"May I have a pork pie, please?" Susan asked, fumbling with her purse to get out some of the money Charles had given her for their shopping.

"What are you doing?" Beryl asked. "Keep your money, dear heart – it's no good here. Buy yourself some chocolate instead." She began serving their food and smiled widely. "Now, do you want cookies before you go next door?" she asked. "I assume you want the eel pie, Charles?" He didn't do much more than nod and hold his breath, waiting for the girls to decide if they wanted dessert. Beryl said, "I already took Elsie's lunch over – but maybe she'll take a break long enough to eat if you're there."

"I think we'll wait and have ice creams on the way home," Charles finally said. Susan looked at her pocketbook again and then back up at him in panic. "My treat," he added, much to his daughter's relief.

He couldn't fault the child; she'd clearly been taught the value of money, the way her bags were bulging with things she'd purchased for Elsie, Gwen, and him. But she needn't have worried quite so much with him right there, as if he couldn't – and wouldn't – pay for anything she couldn't afford.

"You'd better go over and see Elsie, then," Beryl said. "She and Anna were making special hot chocolate earlier, since it's so bloody cold."

The girls took their food, and Gwen led the way next door to Elspeth's, chattering excitedly about things he had no idea about. Anna greeted them all with a smile in spite of the line, and she called out, "Hello, Mr. Carson."

Elsie came up from behind the counter where she'd been changing one of the syrup bags and smiled brilliantly at them. Gwen waved and even Susan smiled back at Elsie; Charles felt a swell of pride in his chest that he had fallen in love with such a beautiful, spirited, successful woman as his Elsie.

By the time they got to the counter, Anna had already poured two mugs of hot chocolate for the girls and was adding whipped cream and multi-colored sugar sprinkles to the top. "Have you been shopping?" she asked.

"Yes – we've been shopping all morning," Gwen replied, taking her mug and grinning. "I found something really nice for you, Anna!"

"Well, don't spoil it for me," Anna teased. "You can give it to me at the party after the wedding, okay?"

Susan accepted her mug from Anna and politely said, "Thank you, ma'am."

"I'm just Anna," Anna said softly. "And you must be Susan. I hope we'll be friends – but you better go sit and eat your lunch before it gets cold."

Charles accepted a mug from his fiancée – goodness only knew what was in the cup – and offered her a kiss across the counter, eliciting wolf whistles and giggles from the line behind him. "I love you," he said softly. "Come eat lunch with us."

"Mmm, maybe when we get the line down," she teased. "Daisy had the baby this morning – a wee lad named George."

"Well, we'll have to send a card and flowers," he replied, kissing her again.

"Oh, aye – we'll pick them online tonight," she promised. "Now, get on w'ye, Mr. Carson – you're a bad influence on me, making me not want to work…" She kissed him lightly on the lips, then pushed him away. "I love you, Charlie."

He loved the way she rolled the 'r' in his name. He loved the way her eyes lit up when he kissed her.

He loved Elspeth Hughes.

That's all there was to it.

He went to sit with the girls and they ate lunch with the glee of children. Elsie eventually came out from behind the counter with her pork pie and sat on his lap, eating and laughing with them as they related their shopping adventures.

Charles had never been more content.


	17. Chapter 17

So, basically, life is hard, writing is hard, depression is not conducive to anything.

* * *

XVII:

Sunday was a morning for lounging around and making love… but Elsie was already up and pounding away furiously on the keyboard of her laptop. That was what eventually woke Charles out of a sound slumber. "Come back to bed," he mumbled, slamming his flattened palm on the mattress with a thud a couple of times. "Els…"

"Cora has it in her head that she and I are going shopping today," Elsie sighed. "With Susan only having been here for a day, I need to cancel that –"

"No, go with Cora," Charles grumbled. "You have a lot of things to get before the wedding. Like fancy knickers. And new shoes."

"Are you mocking me?" she inquired somewhat icily.

"God forbid," he mumbled. "I can't wait to see the end results –"

"Aye, on Christmas Eve," she shot back. "So no sneaking a peek beforehand, you naughty scoundrel."

"Miss Hughes, such strong talk from a lady –"

"I am no lady and you are certainly no gentleman," Elsie laughed. "I'm going down to make us a coffee – do you want anything special or…"

"How about that Honduran one you're testing for the shop?" he asked, finally stirring to life when he realized she wasn't going to just let him go back to sleep. "With a touch of cream and two sugars, please."

She closed the computer and came over to give him a kiss. "I'll see you downstairs in a few minutes," she promised. "I'm sure Gwen and Susan will –"

"Bloody hell, Gwen's going to have a fit," he sighed, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. "Especially since we only just got her squared away. We need to think about where Susan will sleep and all -"

"Charlie, there isn't much we can do now," Elsie pointed out gently. "Aside from the obvious."

"The obvious being that we have two teenagers in the house and not nearly enough sanity between us to keep them calm," he replied. "Well, better face the music –"

She smiled and said, "I don't know, love – it's all very Brady Bunch, isn't it?"

"I should be annoyed that you know the show," he said, "but I can't bring myself to be."

She gave him another kiss and said, "Right – I'll see you downstairs when you get done in the loo."

Elsie headed downstairs, surprised to see that Lady had already been let outside into the back garden, and the kettle was on. Susan stood at the stove, making scrambled eggs and toast suddenly sprang up from the toaster. "Hello," Elsie said, making the girl jump. "No, it's all right – you found everything, I see…"

"Yes, ma'am," Susan said, her voice low. "I didn't want to disturb anyone and the dog needed out –"

"I thought you were scared of dogs," Elsie said softly.

Susan nodded. "She came up on the sofa last night and laid with me," she said quietly. "I was scared to move, but she just went to sleep and… well…"

"Lady is a sweet girl," Elsie said. "Have you met the cats yet?"

Susan shook her head. "No…"

"Well, they'll come out eventually and want some food," Elsie said dismissively. "They're usually in the living room, trying to stay out of the dog's way. Hence why we have a cat tree – Lady can't get up it to snuggle with the wee beasties." She smiled and went to get the French press down from the cabinet. "Did you sleep well, then?"

Susan shrugged. "Not really. New place and being scared the dog was going to rip my face off in my sleep and all," she said very quietly. "Mum's not coming back, is she? To take me away again, I mean."

"No," Elsie said softly, measuring out the coffee into the bottom of the press. "She's not."

Susan exhaled a sigh of relief mixed with something else. "Good," she said. "She's not a very good person, my mum."

"I'd noticed," Elsie said mildly, reaching for the kettle so she could pour hot water into the press. "But your father is a good man, and –"

"We lived in Glasgow last," Susan said. "Mum was shacked up with a dealer." The girl's face changed in that moment, went pale and pained. "He wasn't a nice bloke at all. She was trying to protect me, bringing me here." She turned back to her breakfast and ignored Elsie again.

The silence was uncomfortable, charged, and Elsie felt terrible for the girl who had lived through so much already. "Well… you're safe now," Elsie promised. "Your da and I won't let anything happen to you."

Susan nodded, but didn't reply.

Suddenly, there was a flurry of activity, and Gwen burst through the door to the kitchen. "Aunt Elsie – are we still going shopping with Cora today? I need a new dress for the wedding –"

"Aye, love, we are," Elsie said, waiting for Gwen to get the cobwebs out of her eyes. "She'll be here in about an hour to pick us up…"

Gwen grabbed a bowl and some cereal out of the cupboard, then plopped down at the table. "Did anyone pick up more Ribena?" she asked, pouring cereal into her bowl.

"Unless you two and Charles did yesterday, we're still out," Elsie said. "We can send him out while we're gone –"

"What about Susan?" Gwen asked. "She's going to need a new dress for the wedding, too."

"No, it's okay," Susan said. "I'll just wear whatever –"

"No, come on, that's not fair –"

"I can wear something of yours," Susan said. "We're about the same size."

"But you're yonks taller than me," Gwen argued.

"Gwen, if Susan doesn't want to go, she doesn't have to go," Elsie said, sighing. "Not to mention, Cora is only expecting you and me."

Gwen made a face. "Cora just wants an excuse to get bedazzled panties, doesn't she? I can't believe she pays so much for a little bit of fabric with that much crap crusted on it –"

Elsie had to admit that her niece had a point, but she didn't need to be rude about it. "To each his own, love – and we'd best get you a new pair of shoes to go with that dress. None of that trainers and lace business you like so much," she scolded gently.

Gwen sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yes, ma'am," she said.

Charles finally made his way downstairs. "I smell coffee and food," he commented.

"Made you some bacon and eggs," Susan said quietly. She looked taken aback when Charles came over, hugged her, and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Thank you, Susan," he said. "Don't get it in your head that I expect that every morning, though – Els would have me into the cardiologist lickety-split."

"Aye, I bloody well would," Elsie agreed, pouring him a cup of coffee just the way he'd specified earlier. "For some unfathomable reason, I'd like to keep you around a while."

"Unfathomable indeed," Charlie chuckled, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the lips. "Good morning, love."

"Good morning, you daft beggar," she replied with a smirk. "Now, will you and Susan be all right without Gwen and me for a few hours while we go spend money?"

"Of course," he replied. "As long as it's not so much money that the corner shop declines my card –"

"Will you go out and get some more Ribena and lemonade for the girls?" Elsie asked. "Maybe step into the off license for a couple bottles of wine, too?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I sense an enforced night of togetherness."

"I was only going to say we could watch a film or something tonight," she said, rolling her eyes. "You make family time sound like such a chore –"

He stopped for a moment, taking stock. "No, it's anything but a chore," Charles said firmly. "A year ago, it was just me and the bloody dog. It's nice to have other people to share things with." He smiled and sat down at the table as Susan brought his breakfast over.

It wasn't long before Elsie excused herself to get dressed, and Gwen took off to do the same; this left Charles and Susan seated across the table from one another awkwardly. "So," he said, "I thought we could duck out to the shops a bit later – for food and things."

Susan nodded. "Okay," she agreed.

"Are you sure you don't want to go with Elsie and Gwen?" he asked.

She released her fork; it clattered to the plate with a lot of noise. "I don't like shopping," Susan said. "We went shopping yesterday."

"Yes, but you need things –"

"Wedding things, so I don't embarrass you and Elsie when you get married?" Susan countered. "Mum always said that and did that. She made me buy things that made her look prettier and me uglier. I don't like shopping," she repeated.

"Susan," Charles said, trying to remain calm, "Elsie isn't like that. She wants you to be happy, just the same as I do. I know your mother di-"

"You don't know what she did," Susan said, voice low and warning. "You don't have a clue. Or you would've taken me away from her a long time ago. So just… don't. Please."

"If I'd have known about you, I would have taken you away in a heartbeat," Charles said, his voice gentle and soft. "I loved your mother very much and wanted a family with her – and it ripped my heart out when she left me. And keeping you from me, knowing just how much I wanted you in the first place, is beyond the pale… even for her." He held his hand out on the table, palm up, inviting her silently to take his hand.

She hesitated, then reached for his hand. "She wasn't a very good mum," Susan said. "I asked about my dad all the time, but she just said you'd left us – that you didn't want me."

"That isn't true," Charles said, closing his hand around hers and holding tight. "And I hope in time, you'll realize how very much I wanted you. How much I love you."

Susan swallowed hard and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"

"It's all right," he said. "Now, you're going to get to meet your Auntie Cora today…"

"Is she your sister?" Susan asked.

"No, but she's close as a sister to me," Charles said, not sure he could really explain his relationship with Cora any better than that. "She'll love you straight away, I'm sure."

"Or she'll hate me because of mum," Susan said with a sad smile. "She kind of has that effect on people."

Charles sighed and said, "I loved your mother very much, Susan. And I foolishly thought that I might be enough for her – but I wasn't. I didn't have a good enough job, didn't make enough money, didn't spend enough time with her… and maybe that was all true enough. But if I'd changed my job, made more money, and spent all my time with her – who's to say that the same thing wouldn't have happened? We just weren't well-suited, and made a mistake in marrying, I think." He paused, then said, "But you… you aren't a mistake and never could have been, Susan. I'm sorry for what your mum did, and all I can say is that you'll never have to live like that again."

He was about to continue, but the back doorbell rang. He got up and answered it; Cora was looking especially frazzled. "Hello, Charlie – are Elsie and Gwen ready?" she asked. "Only I'm supposed to help watch Sybbie today, too, since it's Sybil and Tom's anniversary, and –"

"Unca Chawwie!" Sybbie shrieked, rushing into the house and hugging Charlie around the legs. "Hihi!"

"Hello, Miss Sybbie," Charles said, hoisting the little girl up into his arms and giving her a big hug. "I've got an idea – why don't you stay here with me while Nana and Auntie Elsie go shopping?" he suggested. "We can watch cartoons and eat biscuits and play games…"

"Yes, peas," Sybbie said excitedly.

"See? Problem solved," Charles said with a smile at Cora. "Now, once Els and Gwen are ready to go, you can all go have a fine outing."

"Well, while we're waiting – and I know I'm a bit early, but Robert was annoyed with Sybbie running around like a crazy child – could I trouble you for a spot of tea?" Cora asked, breezing straight past him into the kitchen.

The kitchen where Susan was sitting at the table.

Everything felt like it was in slow motion – he was much too slow to stop Cora, or even to delay her a moment. It took just precious seconds for him to realize that she'd stopped just inside the doorway, but by then he'd already bumped into her from behind.

"You must be Auntie Cora," Susan said from behind the remnants of her breakfast.

Cora rounded on Charles and said, "Charles Carson… I think you have some bloody explaining to do."


	18. Chapter 18

XVIII:

He decided that feigning ignorance might be the better option than lecturing Cora on the fact that his private life was private for a reason. That he didn't now, nor did he ever, feel the need to tell her every tiny detail about his sex life – or former sex life. God knows, he was lucky she hadn't known about the very few women he'd dated between the divorce and wooing Elsie: Cora might have had them all tracked down and killed when, inevitably, the relationships ended.

"Why, Cora, whatever do you mean?" Charles asked, cringing at the fake sugary tone he'd managed to adopt.

Cora jabbed her finger in Susan's direction and said, "Who is that? And none of your deflection, Charles. She looks exactly like your mother. So I'm going to take a stab in the dark and –"

He sighed and shifted Sybbie onto his hip. "Cora, this is Susan Carson – my daughter," he said in a clipped, matter-of-fact tone. "Yes, she is named after mum in a roundabout way –"

"Suzette and Susan are far from the same name," Cora muttered. "Who is her mother, then?"

"Alice," Charles said, his shoulders slumping in defeat when Cora whirled around, face reddened and anger slashed across her features like splatters of paint on a canvas. "Cora, it isn't what you're thinking – believe me. Once Alice left, I had nothing to do with her outside of my lawyer. I had no idea that I'd fathered a child, and god knows, she didn't tell me."

"NO," Cora said emphatically. "I refuse to believe that that… scheming, conniving –"

"Bitch," Susan supplied from across the table. "Don't worry, I've heard it all before. I don't think there's a person alive who could love my mother." She smiled with entirely too many teeth, got up, and slammed her breakfast dishes into the sink. "Excuse me."

"I want to go, too," Sybbie said, kicking Charles in the thigh idly. "You're gonna yell."

Charles set the little girl down and sighed. "Why don't you go give Susan a hug?" he suggested.

"Okay," Sybbie replied, running off.

As soon as the girls were gone, he rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "What do you want me to say, Cora?" he asked.

"I want you to explain," she snapped. "Explain to me how suddenly you have a kid – explain to me what the hell has happened to you? You don't tell me anything anymore – are you ashamed? What the fuck, Charlie? What the bloody hell –"

"Enough," he said very quietly. "Enough, Cora. It's difficult enough to deal with everything that's happened in the last year without throwing you being righteously indignant in my general direction – which is rather misguided, mind you, considering. You should be screaming till you're blue in the face at Alice – god knows she more than deserves it. But you cannot be my attack dog, a rescuer, and live my bloody life for me. I'm not a saint – and I never claimed to be. I've made mistakes in my life, yes, and I have to live with them. Susan is not a mistake; and despite everything, clearly her mother thought so, too."

Cora opened her mouth to snap at him again, then thought better of it and sat down instead. "I just don't understand how something like this happens – and why you didn't tell me," she said, a hint of accusation to her tone. "I could have helped – Robert could have –"

"Cora, I'm a big boy and I can haul up my own pants," Charles said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had a sudden headache and he was trying very hard to keep his temper in check. "I didn't need your help in this case, nor Robert's."

"Robert said that woman was at the paper the other day," Cora said. "Why was she there?"

"To wind me up," Charles said with a frown. "She went round to Elspeth's and taunted Elsie – who proceeded to set her straight and put her back in her place. I don't – Cora, I don't love Alice anymore. How could I? How could I ever have loved her, the way she –"

"She manipulated you, plain and simple," Cora said with a sigh. "From the moment you laid eyes on her. I'm sure she kept Susan in her back pocket in case of an emergency, when she thought she could get back into your good graces –"

"I wouldn't have let her break me again," Charles said with firm conviction. "Once was enough."

"We don't choose who we fall in love with, Charlie," Cora said softly. "Just… what happens afterward."

"Yes, and I chose wrongly," he said sharply. "I hurt myself, and I hurt that girl in the other room by not being there and being a father to her –"

"You said yourself that Alice kept her from you," Cora retorted. "How long have you known, then?"

He exhaled slowly. "Two days, give or take a few hours," Charles admitted very quietly. "Alice dropped her off when Elsie and I were eating dinner at Le Fee Verte."

Cora stared at him, her jaw dropping. "Seriously? What kind of a – no, wait – how the fuck – CHARLIE!"

"Elsie somehow convinced her that leaving Susan with me would be a better idea than continuing to drag her around god knows where," he said, sitting down and slumping wearily in the chair. "I owe Els so much right now, and I don't know how to repay her. So stop yelling at me, will you? It's making me feel guiltier than I already am – I'm a shit father and I have to make it up to Susan as soon as I can. She needs to know that not everyone is like Alice."

"Alice is a miserable human being and she deserves whatever happens to her from here on out," Cora growled. "She never deserved you, Charlie – you're a decent human being and she's shit on your shoe."

"Enough," he sighed. "It's bad enough Susan thinks I hate her mother. I don't. It's just bloody complicated."

"Bloody complicated in that she –"

"Cora, not all the blame is hers," Charles muttered. "I appreciate you trying to defend me at every turn, but it's not necessary. I love you like a sister, I really do… but this is something I need to navigate on my own. Maybe with some help from Elsie… but mostly just me. Do you understand why?"

Cora paused, looked away, then sighed. "She looks just like your mum did when we moved in next door to you," she said. "There's no mistaking Susan for anyone's child but yours. At least Alice finally did right by you. Goodness knows she did a fucking hell of a lot wrong –"

"Yes," Charles acknowledged. "But that's enough now."

Elsie came into the kitchen and said, "Who the hell made Susan cry?"

"I suppose that was probably me," Cora said, holding up her hand and having the decency to look guilty. "I didn't mean to."

Elsie shook her head and left the room with a huff.

"Great," Cora muttered. "Of course, now she's pissed off at me –"

"No, she's annoyed with the situation, not you," Charles said. "I'll be right back. You can put a fresh kettle on or you know where the French press is if you want coffee." He got up and left Cora alone to calm down and think; he knew that if he didn't, she would continue to bluster and blunder her way through things, feeling that she was somehow in the right when she very clearly was not.

When he got to the living room, he espied Sybbie lying on the floor on her belly, playing tug of war with Lady and Lady's favorite blanket. And then he saw Susan sitting in the corner on the floor, face buried in her knees, shoulders shaking as Elsie tried to assure her that everything would be all right. Elsie was crouched beside Susan, her hand delicately stroking the girl's back. "I'm sorry," Elsie murmured. "I'm so sorry, love."

Charles knelt down beside Elsie and said, "Go get ready. I'll try to calm her down."

"Charlie, I think you've done enough," Elsie said coldly, "you and your 'sister'. Now you go set Cora straight and I will stay right here with Susan."

"Stop fighting," Susan sobbed miserably. "Please!"

Sybbie abandoned the blanket and came over to throw her arms around Susan protectively. "Go bye bye," Sybbie insisted. "You're making Susie sad!"

Cora appeared in the doorway and said, "Can I have a few minutes alone with Susan?"

"Granny, no, you make Susie cry!" Sybbie yelped in alarm.

"I won't make her cry anymore," Cora promised.

Elsie continued stroking Susan's back, and said softly, "Do you want to hear what Cora has to say or –"

Susan untucked her face from her knees and looked miserably up at Charles. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Not really," he said with a sigh.

"Well, then, maybe you should go so I can get it over with," Susan muttered, sniffling.

"Charlie, will you stay, please?" Cora asked after a moment's hesitation.

"So much for alone," he said.

"Yes, well… I probably ought to have someone present," Cora said. "And seeing as how you're her father, it's probably a good idea."

Elsie smiled tightly and said, "Come on, Sybbie – let's go make you some hot chocolate. You can help me make it."

"Kay, Aunt Essie," Sybbie said, grabbing Elsie's hand and practically dragging her into the corridor.

Cora sighed and sat down on the couch. She was smart enough to realize – probably from her experience raising three girls who were once volatile teenagers – that getting too close was probably hazardous to everyone's health. "So… I've behaved very badly this morning, Susan, to you and your father, and it's not forgivable, is it?"

"I know everyone hates my mother," Susan said. "I had to live with her, remember? I don't need you throwing it in my face that she's… difficult. And neither does dad."

"I didn't mean to," Cora said softly. "Seeing you was a shock. I reacted badly."

Susan lowered her head, peering at Cora sideways from her perch on her knees. "Yes. You did."

Cora gestured between them. "What did your mother tell you about your family?" she asked.

Susan shrugged. "That dad left us," she said. "That we were better off without him."

Charles flinched; that Alice would lie so low as to be a rug didn't surprise him, didn't sting as much as it should have, but god, it hurt to hear the lies repeated by an impressionable child.

"Well," Cora said, "that's far from the truth. Your dad wanted children very badly and your mother refused him the pleasure. So you are very much a surprise to me. And more so because you look just like your grandmother. Did you know your grandmother is still alive? That she's coming to the wedding?"

Susan shook her head.

"That your mother named you after her?" Cora pressed gently. "Susan, I'm sorry we got off onto the wrong foot. I didn't mean to… malign… your mother in front of you. My mouth ran away with me."

"She's not a very nice person," Susan said in a hollow tone. "I understand why everyone hates her so much. But she's still my mum and I have to love her because she's my mum."

Cora frowned. "Susan, you don't have to love anyone just because they're meant to be something to you. You can love someone and not like them at all," she said softly. "I feel that way about my father."

Susan sighed and looked up at her father. "Is that how you feel about mum?" she asked.

Charles shook his head. "Maybe before," he said, "but now I feel nothing for her but pity. Because she's done nothing but hurt herself and others for a very long time."

Susan hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Okay," she whispered. She sat up and wiped away the last of her tears and stared at Cora for a long time. "Will you tell me about my grandmother?" she asked. "I didn't know I had one."

Cora smiled a little, and nodded. "Boy, will I ever," she said softly. "I – Susan – I am so very sorry I upset you. I didn't mean to."

Susan smiled tightly. "No one ever means to," she said quickly. "It just happens."

"That's not okay," Cora said. "Trust me. Your dad and Elsie are going to upset you sometimes because, let's face it, parents piss off their kids. But I want you to know you can call me or come to my house any time you need to. I've told Gwen the same thing. You need a safe place with people who love you to escape to – we all do." She looked over at Charles pointedly. "Your dad and grandmother gave me that when I was a little girl. I owe them both very much because of that."

Susan paused, taking that in. She said quietly, "Thank you, Aunt Cora."

"Are you coming shopping with us?" Cora asked. "Assuming Elsie has decided not to murder me, that is –"

Susan shook her head quickly. "No… I don't like shopping," she said very quickly, so quickly her words ran together.

"Susan," Charles said softly, "I think you would have fun if you went. Certainly much more fun than hanging out here with your old dad and little Sybbie."

"I don't have any money," Susan said.

"Don't you dare worry about that," Cora said with a grin. "You need a new outfit to wear to meet your grandmother, don't you?"

Susan hesitated, looking at Charles for confirmation or denial. He smiled a little and said, "Yes, love, you do." He glanced over at Cora and said, "Whatever she wants – within reason – and I'll hit a cashpoint when you get back."

"Oh, please, Charlie – how often do I get to spoil your kid?" Cora asked, laughing.

Susan bit her lip and said, "Dad, I'm sorry –"

"What for?"

"Making you angry."

"You didn't," Charles said. "Go get dressed and ready to go, Susan. And you can tell me about your adventures when you get back."

"Can we stop and get fish and chips for lunch?" Susan asked Cora hesitantly. "Mum let me go once and it was so good –"

"Of course," Cora said quickly. "Elsie and I love fish and chips – and Gwen, too. Susan, don't ever feel like you can't ask for things. We aren't your mum."

Susan nodded and exhaled a sigh that might have been relief. "Okay, well, I'm going to go get out of my pajamas, then," she said.

Once she was out of the room, Elsie came back into the living room. "Is everything back to normal?" she asked. "Or do I need to take someone outside and do something violent?"

Charles laughed at the mental image of Elsie taking Cora outside and poking her rather Scottishly with a big stick. "No, everything is back on the level," he said. "And Susan will be going with you – and Cora committed you to fish and chips for lunch."

Elsie smiled. "Oh good… and that's fine," she said.

Cora bit her lip and said, "What did Alice do to her?" she asked.

Charles shook his head. "I don't know if that's the question to ask," he commented softly. "I think the question we should be asking is 'what can we do to earn Susan's trust?'."

"Have you told Suzette about her?" Cora asked. "She's going to react far more badly than I did if you don't."

"I'm calling her while you're gone," he said. "The last thing we need is her overreacting." He glanced at Elsie. "You haven't met mum. When she gets cross, she gets very quiet and sulky… and then she explodes and people die."

"That doesn't bode well for me," Elsie said.

"Mum already loves you," Charles said, "because I love you. And because you make excellent coffee. Priorities, you know." He reached up and held Elsie's hand, squeezing it and smiling. "I love you, Elsie. I don't say it enough."

Cora smirked. "You say it every time I'm around," she teased.

Gwen bounded into the room with Sybbie and said, "So are we going or what?"

"We're waiting for Susan," Elsie said. "She's getting changed now."

"Yessssss," Gwen said with a grin. "This is going to be so much fun!"

Sybbie giggled. "I'm going to play with Unca Chawwie and Wady," she announced.

"And we're going to color in your coloring books," Charles said with a smile. "Aunt Elsie got you a new one yesterday."

Sybbie's eyes widened in delight. "YAY! Thank you!" she squealed.

Cora laughed and said, "Who's spoiling whom, then?"


	19. Chapter 19

XIX:

"Mmm, stop it," Elsie murmured unconvincingly. "I've got to get up and go to work, you big lout." Charles's lips continued on their downward trajectory, tickling the sensitive skin around her navel, making her squirm. "Charlie, really –"

"I love the way your skin tastes," Charles breathed against her abdomen. "Like honey and lavender and salt –"

"That'll be that lotion you bought me," she teased softly. "Seriously, Charles – either hurry it up or let me get up and get ready. Your mum's plane arrives at… what – ten?"

He sighed, all thoughts of pleasure pursuits driven straight out of his mind for good. "Ten fifteen," Charles muttered, retreating. "Gwen's got school, but I thought I'd take Susan along –"

"Susan volunteered to come to the shop and help unload the shipment of coffee with Thomas and Tom," Elsie murmured, wondering why his playfulness had up and disappeared. "She's already up and in the bathroom so she can leave with me," she explained. "You do hear the shower, don't you?"

"Yes, I just thought –"

"You don't talk about your mum," Elsie said softly. "Why not?"

He shrugged. "I love my mother very much," he said. "But I don't care for the company she keeps, sometimes. Nor the reaction it receives."

She reached over and stroked his arm. "Well…"

"My father died when I was seven," Charles said. "And my mother mourned him, then took up with a woman. They went to France when mum retired. I don't even know why."

"I should think the fact that you disapprove would be an indication of why," Elsie murmured gently. "I'm sure she loves you very much, but she also cares deeply for her companion, and –"

He exhaled, sounding annoyed. "My mum took up with Martha Levinson," Charles said. "Cora's mother, of all people. She's half mad and –"

"Charlie," Elsie murmured, "who are we to judge? I know you're her son, but it's still not your place to approve or disapprove. She might not approve of me, but that isn't going to keep us from getting married or being in love. It's just the same for her. It's not our place to tell her what to do or how to live her life."

He made a distasteful face. "Yes, well… I still cannot understand the appeal."

Elsie chuckled. "Well, I think everyone dreams of someone that can fill the void in their heart – and it's definitely not your place to tell her that she cannot have that simply because her partner is a woman –"

"It isn't so much that her partner is a woman," he admitted with a sigh, "though, again, it seems rather a bit unnatural after having a male partner for many years… I'm rather more annoyed at her for choosing Cora's mad mother." He wrinkled his nose. "Even Cora thinks Martha is more than slightly bonkers."

"Bonkers can be good," Elsie said.

He sighed. "Well, I'm sure you'll get to meet Martha, as well… she'll be staying with Cora and Robert while they're here. Mum will be, too."

Elsie glared at him. "I suppose you didn't even bother to offer her a place to stay –"

"We're full to the brim," Charles protested. "I did offer to pay for a hotel, but… mum is stubborn."

"I can't imagine where you inherited that trait from," Elsie said sarcastically.

He huffed. "You're not exactly a pushover yourself," he reminded her. "Better get up and ready for work, then –"

"How does Robert feel about you taking so much time off?" Elsie inquired.

"The department runs itself," Charles replied, his voice quiet. "Mostly, anyway. I still keep my salary, but Robert's cut me back to part time hours for a while anyway, to see if we can save a few man hours on paper. I've been working from home during the day. He's asked me if I might be amenable to taking early retirement."

Elsie flinched. "Bloody hell," she said. "You might have told me –"

"And worry you unnecessarily?" he replied. "It's nothing, Els… the storm will pass."

"London isn't exactly cheap," she reminded him.

"No," he agreed. "But your shop is doing well, and my investments are doing well… we'll be fine."

"With two children to raise?" she challenged.

He sighed and murmured, "We'll make it work, love. There are other papers, if I want to go that route. There are online options. I can work, even if I'm drawing my pension from Crawley Enterprises."

"That isn't the point," she said, pulling away from him and climbing out of bed. "The point is that this is meant to be a partnership between us, and you've not told me what's going on. So… for the sake of transparency, I've been thinking about buying the shop next door and knocking out the walls between them. We need to get bigger, the way business is suddenly booming. But that's probably premature, since you're about to retire. No point in me running us into debt trying to make something work." She grabbed her dressing down and left the room, putting it on as she went.

On the one hand, she recognized that he was trying to protect her, to shelter her, but on the other hand, she was a big girl and she was used to fighting her own battles head-on. Having to defer to someone else's needs was difficult, to say the least. And there were the girls to think of, too. What would it mean for them if Charles were to stop working and she began to falter at the shop? There were too many variables, too many emotions attached to deal with any of it rationally.

Add to it the stresses of a wedding – which they had wanted to be small and intimate, but had somehow expanded into a small circus instead – and settling Susan into their little family, and it was like a powder keg, primed to explode. Elsie flipped the switch for the kitchen lights and went to work making breakfast for Susan and herself. Toast, grilled tomatoes, and cheese, and a pot of strong tea: coffee would wait till they were at the office.

Susan came downstairs, hair wet, eyes shining with repressed excitement. Since she'd been going to work with Elsie, she'd begun to come out of her shell and was quite good at taking direction. Elsie found herself giving the girl more important tasks than her actual employees, and she was doing them without complaint. "Hello," Susan said, sliding into her seat at the table. "Shower's free."

"Susan," Elsie said, "how about we sign employment papers today? So I'm actually paying you a fair wage for everything you've been doing."

Susan shrugged. "But it's fun," she said. "I don't mind not getting paid."

Elsie sighed. "Aye, but if you're going to help at the shop, the law says I need to pay you. So we'll do that this morning. Your father's going to have a fit."

"Dad loves you," Susan said simply. "He has to understand you're looking out for me or something, eh?"

Elsie smiled wanly. "Your grandmother is coming today," she said. "Your dad thought you might go with him to the airport, but if you're working –"

"Why doesn't he bring her to the shop?" Susan said.

Elsie shrugged. "Maybe he will." She took a bite of toast, then got up and said, "Well, I'm going to take a quick shower. Could you make sure the test bags of beans get into the car with us?"

"Yes, ma'am," Susan replied, biting her lip at the sudden tension.

"I'm not angry," Elsie was quick to assure her. "I'm just worried about meeting Suzette and there's a lot to be done today at work."

"And the wedding is the day after tomorrow," Susan added.

"Aye, it is," Elsie agreed, "and that's turned into a circus, hasn't it?"

Susan hid a smile. "But it will be worth it, right?" she asked.

"Oh, very much so," Elsie agreed. "But it's the getting there that's a pain in the arse." She finished her cup of tea and headed upstairs again. Charles was waiting just outside the bathroom for her. "Charlie, I'm trying to get ready for –"

He silenced her with a tender kiss. "I love you, you know," he whispered. "I didn't mean to –"

"Charlie, I'm not going off you," she said, digging her fingertips into his ribcage possessively. "Far from it. In two days, we're going to be married, and in three days, we'll be celebrating our first Christmas as a family. But I do really need to get ready for work or Beryl is going to be livid that I'm not there for her delivery."

"Do you want me to bring mum and Martha by the shop?" he asked.

"Only if they want to see me waving around a plunger and praying that the steam nozzle doesn't break again," Elsie joked. "Susan and I will be back around three; maybe we should do dinner with everyone? Can you get a reservation somewhere?"

"Can I get a reservation somewhere?" Charlie scoffed. "How fancy are you talking, Miss Hughes? Champagne and caviar?"

She made a face. "I was thinking something more along the lines of Vietnamese or Korean, but definitely something that Gwen and Susan can stomach."

"Do you want Martha to –"

"She's your mother's partner," Elsie said simply. "Of course she should come. She's part of the family, same as you and me." She tickled him a little, smiling as he squirmed. "Now, I'm getting in the shower and you're going back to bed, sir." She gave him a gentle kiss. "Two days, Charlie."

"Two days," he agreed. "And then I'll be your husband."

"I'll be your wife," she added, smiling. "Now, get on w'ye. Back to bed."

She watched him lumbering back to their room before she slipped into the shower and attempted to get ready for the day.

* * *

The car was quiet: too quiet. Charles cleared his throat and glanced in the rearview mirror, watching his mother and Martha Levinson in the back seat, holding hands for a split second before returning his attention to the road. "So, Cora said she and Robert are going to join us for supper," he said. "And you two will go back to their place with them."

"All right," Suzette said, staring out the window.

Charles sighed. "Mum –"

"When am I going to meet your fiancée and daughter?" Suzette inquired coolly. "Before the wedding, I hope." Martha snickered under her breath.

"We can go meet them now if you'd like," he said with a small sigh. "It's up to you, mum. What do you want to do? We can go to the house, we can go shopping… we can go to Elsie's shop – "

"Elsie is a shopkeeper?" Martha inquired. "All I've heard is that she exists."

Charles's grip on the wheel tightened a bit. "Elsie runs a coffee shop."

"I could do with a cup of coffee," Suzette said, acknowledging what he was saying without confirming that she wanted to go; it was a move that constantly irritated him, but he had to admit that he understood she was trying to keep the ball in his court so he was comfortable. Ever since their massive falling out about the move to France, the legal partnership, and everything else in between, she had deferred to her son when they were together.

"Then we'll spin by Elspeth's," Charles said.

"I hope the coffee is good," Martha commented.

"The best," Charles said, sighing. After another forced silence, he said, "Look, I know you think I'm still upset with you both, but I'm not. You two have been together for twenty-six years – it doesn't matter what I or anyone else thinks about your relationship. You've held it together and still love each other. No one, especially not me, can fault you for that. I'm trying; Elsie is helping me understand it a bit more."

"But you still don't approve of me because I'm just some mad American who stole your mum," Martha interjected.

"You're Cora's mother and you're my mother's partner," Charles said. "I'm trying, Martha."

"Twenty-six years you've been trying," Suzette said softly.

"I'm only human, mum," he sighed, wishing he'd never agreed to pick them up at the airport. He turned on the radio and tried to keep the tension down, not knowing at all what to say to make the situation any better.

He was quite relieved to finally pull into the car park down the way from Elspeth's and The Bake Shop, if for no other reason than he'd be able to direct his mother and Martha away from him for a few minutes. The tension was awful, really. And he was trying, desperately, to be accepting of them – because Elsie was likely to kick him out of bed if he didn't at least make the attempt.

"Oh, look at it," Martha cooed. "It's like stepping back in time, this little block of shops –"

"Wartime," Suzette supplied with a small smile.

"Well, we're not quite old enough to remember that, so there," Martha teased, holding Suzette's arm as they walked down the walkway.

"There was quite a ruckus about five years ago," Charles supplied, "when they found a dud bomb in the basement of the garage across the street down there. But all's well now."

Suzette smiled and said, "London has many layers; it's all well in many ways."

The bell at the door tinkled loudly as they stepped into Elspeth's. Charles looked around, taking it in, looking for Elsie's red hair. But Anna and Tom were behind the bar and Susan was washing up tables with no sign of Elsie.

"Hello, Mr. Carson!" Anna greeted cheerfully. "Elsie's just nipped out to drop a package off at the post office – she's testing the waters of selling her beans online, and just got her first order. That was your sister's idea, I do believe."

Charles smiled and said, "Cora's full of ideas."

Martha sighed and rolled her eyes. "Cora is always trying to pull off some cockamamie scheme or another," she said. "I think it comes from not having her father's pragmatism."

"The lousy deadbeat?" Suzette added in gently, stroking Martha's arm. "I think Cora has done quite well for herself, you know."

Susan finished washing up and came to give her father a hug. "Sorry, my hands are wet from the cloth," she apologized. "Elsie said she'd be back soon – she left about half an hour ago."

Suzette smiled a little and said, "My goodness… you must be Susan."

Susan bit her lip apprehensively and turned to look at her grandmother. "I am," she said softly. "You must be my grandmum."

"Is it that obvious?" Suzette joked, her green eyes twinkling with mirth. "It's like looking in a bloody mirror, isn't it? Couldn't mistake you for anyone else's girl but Charlie's."

"Mum, Martha, what would you like to drink?" Charles asked. The shop was not overly busy, so he didn't feel like a fool for offering to get them drinks, but he was keenly aware that Elsie would feel like he was wasting the staff's time if they didn't do something other than take up space.

"Oh, I'd just like a hot chocolate," Martha said. "Too much caffeine isn't good for my old ticker," she explained mildly.

"Whatever," Suzette said dismissively as she put her arm around Susan's shoulders and led her over to one of the sofas, probably intent on telling stories about his youth.

Charles went up to the counter and said, "My mother would like 'whatever' and her partner would like a hot chocolate. And I would like my usual, please, since Els isn't around to –"

There was a flurry of activity as Elsie and Beryl came into the shop, talking and laughing. Elsie stopped short, seeing Charles there, and then she looked around, eyes alighting on Suzette. She looked like she might just turn and bolt right back the way she'd come, but instead, she boldly stepped up to Charles and gave him a kiss. "Hello," she murmured. "Let me put away my coat and then I'd like to meet your mum and Martha."

Elsie disappeared back into the office, and Martha sidled up alongside Charles with a grin. "Well, you go, Charlie! You managed to score yourself a hot little redhead this time, didn't you?" she teased with a quirky grin. "She better be giving you a run for your money."

"Oh," Charles acknowledged, "she definitely is."

Beryl gave him a side-eyed glance, then burst out laughing. "Don't ever let Elsie hear you say that," she warned, "or she'll give you that dirty look she does when someone's spilt wine on the carpet. I know you know that look, Charlie boy."

"God, do I ever," Charles sighed. "I got it at three o'clock this morning."

Elsie came out of the office, tucking an errant curl of hair behind her ear. "Got what at three this morning?" she inquired. "The only thing I remember you getting that early was my cold feet on your shins."

Martha howled with laughter. When she managed to breathe again, she reached over and shook Elsie's hand. "You're going to fit into the family just fine, love," she said with a grin. "I'm Martha Levinson, Charlie's step-mother."

Charles held his tongue and didn't roll his eyes, even though he wanted to. Elsie merely smiled and shook Martha's hand. "I'm Elsie Hughes," his fiancée greeted brightly. "Welcome to Elspeth's – was Charlie kind enough to order you and Suzette a drink?"

"He did," Tom said, "and we're almost done making them." He winked at Martha; it was no secret that Sybil and Tom were Martha's favorites of Cora's brood. "Here you are, Grandmama," he added, passing the mug of hot chocolate over to her.

Anna finished up a steaming cup of 'whatever' and held it out to Elsie. "Maybe you should take it over to Mrs. Carson," she suggested. "It's a lavender-raspberry infused latte."

Elsie took the mug and strode over to where Suzette and Susan were sitting, chatting quietly between them. "Mrs. Carson," Elsie began.

Suzette looked up at her and smiled. "Yes?"

Elsie's bravado slipped away in a rush; Charles could see her nerves take over, and he stepped in before she could falter. "Mum," he said, coming up and putting his arm around Elsie's waist, "this is Elsie – the love of my life." Elsie glanced at him, startled by the forceful declaration, and he said, "What? It's true. You are. You're the reason I've not given up, Els."

She swallowed hard and murmured, "You daft, sweet man, you don't have to make a show of it in front of your mam."

"It's not a show," he replied, "and I have to apologize for being an absolute bear this morning."

Suzette's smile widened. "Well," she commented, "it's nice to see someone putting Charlie in his place for once."

"What exactly is my place, then?" Charles questioned.

His mother merely raised an eyebrow and smirked at him as she accepted the mug from Elsie, not saying another word.


	20. Chapter 20

XX:

Elsie woke up to the smell of eggy toast and coffee, and the feeling of Charles wrapped around her like a giant squeezing his favorite stuffed animal. She smiled and bit her lip, knowing that it was Christmas Eve and their wait was very nearly over. Not that it had been much of a wait; they were both too anxious to begin their lives together with that piece of paper that said they belonged to one another to have waited long. And even if he was a grumpy old codger and she was a forgetful space case with a bit of a temper, they suited one another.

She felt heat rising into her cheeks – and other bits – when she remembered the night before… and just how well they suited one another. Like peanut butter and jelly, yin and yang, puzzle pieces that – She shifted and tried not to think about how well they fit together. There would certainly be enough of that later. Whenever they wanted.

Not that they had exactly been refraining from shagging every chance they got.

He inhaled deeply and his arms tightened around her as he began to wake up. "Hullo," Charles grumbled sleepily. "Smells like someone's been making breakfast –"

"Not me," Elsie murmured. "I've not been able to get Mr. Cro Magnon to let me up to use the loo, let alone escape down to the kitchen."

"Cro Magnon indeed," he huffed. "If I were being masterful, I'd smack you on the arse and send you down to the kitchen to make me breakfast."

"If you did that, you'd have to go to casualty to have your hand sewn back on," she retorted.

"You wicked woman," Charles teased. "You know… today is the day."

"It is," she agreed. "But it already feels like we are married. We've got the house, the dog, the cats, the kids, the job stress…"

"And each other," he said softly. "Marrying you feels nothing like marrying Alice did. With her, it was like… an inevitable conclusion. With you, it's like starting a new adventure."

"You're not exactly the adventurous type," she reminded him, kissing his chest.

"I went out on a limb and won your heart," he shot back.

"Aye, you did," she agreed. "Daft man." She sighed and murmured, "I'm sure people are going to start calling soon, wondering if we're getting up and ready yet."

"God, don't remind me," he grumbled. "Can't we just lie abed and say we got up?"

She poked him. "No. We actually have to go to the Registry Office, so that involves becoming vertical."

"But horizontal is so much more fun," he whined, winking and grinning.

"Cheeky," Elsie scolded, though she was smiling. "Are you going to let me up and use the loo?"

"Do I have to?"

"Unless you want to clean up a puddle, I would advise it," she shot back.

He gave her a kiss, then released her. "It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding," Charles commented.

Elsie got up and threw her dressing gown on, tying the sash over her naked body more for the sake of propriety than actually caring. "Good thing I'm not superstitious, or I'd be running for the hills," she teased, a smile on her lips as she watched him for a long moment, very glad that she'd taken a chance on them.

She didn't want to contemplate slogging through life without him again.

* * *

"Well, don't you two look snazzy," Charles commented as Gwen and Susan bounded downstairs. "You'll look wonderful in the photos –"

"No one's going to be looking at us in the photos," Gwen said, giggling.

Susan had a mischievous smirk on her lips as she murmured, "Or if they are, they're going to be saying how drab we look."

"You look anything but drab," Charles said, rolling his eyes and sighing.

Gwen giggled again and said, "Just wait till Aunt Elsie comes down."

He cleared his throat. "I'm sure Elsie will look very lovely – as she always does," he said in a neutral tone.

"That doesn't sound very much like you're in love with her," Gwen protested.

Charles shuffled from one foot to the other like a nervous teenager. It annoyed him that he was so nervous when he had no reason to be. Elsie had already said yes. They were already living together. They already had cobbled together a little family, a little home that was just theirs. So why should he be nervous about going to get married, after all?

He took a breath and calmly said, "I love your aunt for so many more reasons than just the way she looks. That isn't to say that I don't appreciate the way that she looks – because I do – but… it's such a tiny part of why I love her that it's ridiculous. She could choose to be married to me in a canvas sack, and I would still love her just the same. It isn't about how she dresses or how she presents herself, Gwen – I love her for the way her eyes twinkle when she's about to make my life miserable because I've been a prat. I love her for the way she jumps into things without thinking, just because she knows she can make a difference… good or bad. I love her for the way she smiles and the way she hums when she thinks no one is listening. I even love it when she warms her cold hands and feet on me, because it means she's close."

He glanced up the stairs at Elsie, who was standing there, looking at him with tears in her eyes. He smiled and waved a little, and she took the last few stairs in a rush before throwing her arms around him and holding on tight.

"I love you," she whispered, "and I wouldn't be marrying you today if I didn't."

"I know," he agreed softly. "I can't promise I won't upset you or make mistakes –"

"We'll live," she promised, releasing him and pulling back to look at him. "You look rather dapper, Mr. Carson –"

Seeing her outfit for really the first time nearly knocked him stupid. He'd just worn a burgundy and navy patterned tie with a charcoal suit. She looked like she'd stepped straight out of a magazine! Her dress was knee-length, navy with a bronze lace overlay. She had on a navy blazer with a bronze ribbon tie that tied just beneath her breasts, holding everything together tidily. And her hat – because you bloody well wear a hat to a wedding, especially your own – was a navy confection with bronze and white ribbons, tulle roses, and antique bronze buttons. He'd never seen her dressed up before, and his breath left him completely.

"You… Elsie – "

She looked down at herself worriedly, then back up at him. "Is it too much?"

"No! It definitely isn't too much – you look so beautiful…"

"But?" she prompted softly.

"But now I'll have to fight off every man in London to keep you," he said with a frown.

"No, you won't – I'm only for you, dear heart," Elsie vowed with a small smile. "It's almost time to leave – I don't want to be late."

"Wait," he said softly. "I've got something for you –"

"Charlie, isn't everything you've done already enough?" she asked, smiling.

He went to the kitchen and retrieved the flowers he'd bought for her to carry – three perfect roses; one white, one blood red, and one yellow. "Elspeth Hughes," Charles murmured as he came back to the foot of the stairs, "from today on, you deserve more than I can give you. But I can give you fidelity, love, and friendship… I just hope it's enough." He handed her the roses and smiled awkwardly, awaiting her response.

"It is more than enough," Elsie whispered, taking his hand. "And you are the sweetest man I know, Charles Carson."

"You two are disgusting," Gwen snickered.

"I think it's lovely," Susan said softly.

Charles felt guilty yet again that he'd not been able to offer his daughter a happy home to grow up in. All that he could do now was offer her a safe place to find herself – and a family that loved her.

He smiled and said, "Get your coats and let Lady in or we'll be late. Wouldn't want to be late for my own wedding…"

* * *

The civil service itself was a quiet affair with just Suzette, Gwen, and Susan as their witnesses. Charles had been adamant that he didn't want to spoil the intimate moment by having far too many people witnessing it, and Elsie had agreed with him, in a fit of feeling vulnerable and nervous.

They spoke their vows softly and laughed gently at each other stumbling over their words, something that they understood and no one else did. A secret joke between them, and something ever so sacred. The giving of the rings – a simple white gold band with a single onyx for Charles, and a white gold band with inset square diamonds for Elsie – was simple and sweet, and their kiss was brief. But at the end of the kiss, they smiled and pressed their foreheads together, their fingers tangling together tightly into knotted mass of belonging. For they did belong now – to one another.

Elsie gave each of their witnesses one of her roses as they left the registry office, and she was met with a warm hug and kiss by Suzette. "I hope the two of you will be very happy together," Suzette murmured. "I would say 'as happy as Martha and I are', but my son would take offense at that."

"I certainly hope we'll be just as happy as you and Martha," Elsie said with a smile. "If we aren't, I should probably ask for my money back. Are husbands refundable after ninety days?"

"You wish," Charles rumbled, catching the tail end of the conversation. "You're stuck with me, Els."

Elsie shrugged and sighed, "Well, I guess that settles it, then…" She winked saucily at him, and added, "We should probably get to the shop before the reception guests start a riot. I know Cora was very offended that we just wanted immediate family –"

"Cora will live," Suzette said firmly. "She was raised to believe that she was entitled to whatever she wanted that she could lay her hands on. She needs to learn to live with disappointment once in a while, doesn't she?"

Charles laughed and said, "You're right, mum, but you don't need to be so harsh about it. Gwen, Susan, are you ready to go?"

"Please," Susan said. "It's chilly out here. And there will be cake, right?"

"Of course there will be cake!" Charles said. "Gwen?" He watched his niece playing with the yellow rose, running her fingers over the petals, then snapping back out of it and looking up at him. "Are you ready to go to the party, dear?"

Gwen nodded. "Yeah," she said quietly.

"What's wrong?" Elsie asked.

"Yellow roses were mum's favorite," Gwen said simply, her face crumbling as she started to cry. Elsie released her husband's hand and wrapped her arms around her niece. "She said my dad gave them to her all the time," Gwen whispered miserably into Elsie's coat.

"I'm sorry, love," Elsie murmured. "It will be all right – I promise."

"Does it ever stop hurting?" Gwen sniffled.

Elsie shook her head. "No… but sometimes, the pain eases off a little. Your mum would be very proud of you right now."

"No, she wouldn't, because she didn't care about me," Gwen whispered. "She just cared about drugs and alcohol and her stupid boyfriends." She hugged Elsie tighter. "Thank you for not giving up on me, Aunt Elsie. I'm sorry I've been –"

"Shh," Elsie whispered. "It's all right, love. It's part of being a family. Nobody gets left behind." She released her niece and said, "Now, let's go get you some cake and hot chocolate, all right?"

"Hot chocolate sounds delightful," Suzette spoke up. "It's rather taken a nippy turn."

They piled into the car and headed to Elspeth's. It was pretty telling that the shop was only closed on Christmas Day – and this one lone Christmas Eve, to celebrate its owner's marriage. Elsie watched the buildings along the road pass by as Charles drove, and she managed to appreciate the view and her place in the bigger picture for the first time. Maybe there wasn't anything more to their actual marriage than a piece of paper that said her name was now Elspeth May Carson, but she felt differently. Something fundamental had shifted in her, maybe didn't even quite belong just to her any longer, and she felt quite overwhelmed by the enormity of the change.

Fairy lights and tinsel garland had been hung up around the shop in the preceding days, and walking into her home away from home seemed like walking into a foreign place suddenly, burst to overfull as it was with people and refreshments. A hearty cheer went up from the crowd as Elsie and Charles came in; Elsie was clinging to his arm and smiling up at him with a blush on her cheeks as she knew everything was bright and shiny and new again. "Congratulations!" Cora exclaimed, giving them each a kiss on the cheek, the first person besides Suzette to acknowledge the enormity of what they'd embarked on. "Are you thirsty? We've got wine, champagne –"

"I'd be fine with just a coffee," Charles said, patting Elsie's hand where it lay in the crook of his elbow. "What about you, Mrs. Carson?" he asked, smiling cheekily down at her.

"Oh, I'd think I should like a bit of hot chocolate," Elsie replied. "Especially if Anna is manning the bar."

"I heard that," Anna laughed. "I'm manning the coffee bar, but Mr. Bates from the Cock and Bull is pouring the real drinks."

"Good," Elsie said. "Because if you were pouring drinks, we'd all be under the table in five minutes flat."

Anna shrugged and grinned. "Guilty as charged," she said, laughing as she went behind the counter to start on their drinks. "Anyone else?" Gwen and Susan abandoned the rest of the party to go help Anna, while Elsie and Charles started the arduous task of greeting their friends and family.

About two hours later, Elsie broke away to get a glass of wine. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Bates," she said as she took a glass of zinfandel from him. "I know serving people drinks on Christmas Eve after a wedding isn't exactly the idea of a day off –"

"I'm glad to do it for Mr. Carson," Bates said. "Besides, it's given me a change of scenery and I think I might even have caught the eye of a pretty girl." He glanced over at Anna behind the counter, giving Susan a lesson in how to froth milk.

Elsie followed his gaze and let out a throaty chuckle. "Best you be careful about going after that one," she warned. "She's always looking for the next shiny thing in life. I'm surprised I've managed to keep her at the shop as long as I have."

"A little bit of shiny never hurt anyone," Bates replied.

"Aye, but a lot of it will give you a headache," Elsie said firmly. "Just don't say you weren't warned."

"I never was very good at taking direction, Mrs. Carson," Bates replied cheekily, winking.

"There you are," Charles said, coming up behind Elsie and wrapping his arms around her waist. "You slipped away and –"

"Wine," she replied, holding up her glass so she wouldn't spill it. "Do you want –"

"I could do with a scotch," Charles replied, "but a glass of wine will have to do for now."

"When we get home, you can drink yourself blind," Elsie teased, biting her lip as he held her tighter against him. She flushed with sudden heat and tried to break away if for no other reason than they were very much in public, and if they both disappeared back into her office, the teasing would be merciless. "Charlie, behave yourself," she scolded breathlessly. "White or red?"

"White or red what?" he asked, kissing the side of her neck.

"Wine. White or red," she said, nearly choking on the words as she finally edged out of his entirely polarizing embrace.

"I'd love a chardonnay," Charles replied. Bates, appearing to be nonchalant, poured it and passed it over the table. "Thank you, John – for coming and serving drinks and all."

"Not a problem, Charles," Bates replied. "As long as you don't take your wife under the table, that is."

Elsie flushed bright red and hurried off. Charles rolled his eyes. "Now look what you've gone and done –"

"You're the one who was up on her like you could do something about it here," Bates pointed out. "Cake, gifts, and then you can take her home and do… whatever it is you two fancy doing."

Blessedly, Elsie didn't have to live through much more of that because Robert called for everyone's attention. She returned to Charles's side and sipped her wine.

"Now, we're all gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Charles Carson and Elspeth Hughes," Robert said, "and I know we've all had a chance to tell the bride how lovely she looks, and to tell the groom just how bloody lucky he is. But now, it's time for us to share with them. Charlie, Elsie, we have some gifts for you both."

Cora joined her husband with a smile on her lips. "Charlie, Elsie… from Robert, the girls, and I," she said, holding up an envelope. "We've arranged for you two to have two weeks in Scotland together. Elsie, you're from Argyll – the island of Bute originally, yes?" Elsie nodded, mute. "Well, we've arranged for you to stay at Inveraray Castle for five days –" Elsie's eyes widened and she cried out; it had been years since she'd been back in Scotland, and the very thought was overwhelming. She didn't hear the rest: she was too busy crying and laughing and clinging to Charles. He held her and kissed her and smiled at her reaction.

"I take it that's a good thing?" he asked.

"Oh, aye," she sobbed, "a verra good thing."

"And obviously, someone has to keep an eye on the girls and walk your dog," Martha spoke up. "So, Suzette and I will be staying over with them during your honeymoon. You won't have to worry about a thing."

"Oh hell," Charles said. "I'll need to worry about everything, then!"

Elsie dissolved into helpless giggles. "Charlie, you're so cruel to that poor woman," she scolded. "Nothing is going to happen while we're gone."

He exhaled a sigh and rolled his eyes heavenward. "Oh, well, fine – since we're doing gifts now, I suppose it's appropriate that my gift to my lovely bride be next," he sighed in a suffering tone. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and produced an envelope. "For you, my love, with all my blessings," Charles said very softly.

Elsie opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper from the owner of the building, stating that her lease had been paid in full for the next six months. She let out a shaky, strangled noise, then threw her arms around him and held on tightly. It was more than she could ever have hoped for, or wished for – to have her security ensured twice in one day, once by tying herself to the man she loved, and once financially by having him pay to keep her shop…

"My gift to you is much smaller," Elsie whispered when she stopped crying. She retrieved a small box from her clutch and presented it to her husband, praying that he wouldn't find it lacking.

He opened the box and smiled, then closed it again. "Elsie, they're perfect," Charles said. "And they match my wedding ring – did you go back to the jeweler and ask for the cufflinks to match?"

"I did," she acknowledged softly. "It's nothing compared to –"

"Els," he whispered, "there is no comparison."

"I love you," she said, kissing him. "God, I love you."

"Good, because I love you just as much," he replied, kissing her back.

Violet cleared her throat from one of the sofas. "I suppose you two heard the distinct sounds of me being left out of Robert and Cora's gift," she said, giving her son a dirty look across the room. "It was because I was not invited to participate in their gift giving. So, I banded with Suzette and Martha," she paused for dramatic effect and also to make a face, "and we invested in a gift for you both together. We purchased this building from the bank in your names, free and clear. You may do what you like with the upstairs units – maybe refurbish them into flats? – and this way, you can expand Elspeth's into the free space next door. And you can collect rent from Mrs. Patmore's shop if you're so inclined."

Charles looked down at Elsie, eyes wide. He'd paid off the lease in November, before the building had gone up for sale, according to the paperwork he'd given Elsie. But now, suddenly –

"Wait, what?" Elsie managed to choke out.

"You own the building now," Suzette spoke up. "I know how important it is to feel secure… and Martha and I have spent years building our security up. It's worth giving a little to know that you and Charles will be in a good place to raise Gwen and Susan."

Martha added, "If Suzette and I hadn't been together, been business partners as well as lovers – and wives – I don't know where either of us would be now. She's the brains, I'm the dreamer with my head in the clouds. But you and Charles… you work. You click. And you don't take any of his shit."

"Gamama, don't say bad words," Sybbie piped up from her great-grandmother's lap.

Charles threw his arms around Elsie and lifted her off the ground, twirling her around, laughing at their good fortune. "My god, Els –"

"Put me down, you oaf!" Elsie laughed, slapping at his shoulders. "My dress is coming up – do you want everyone to see my bloody knickers?"

He reluctantly set her back down on the floor, and she hugged him tightly. "Elsie –"

She bit her lip and turned to address the others. "Thank you so much – so very much – for your generosity and your kindness toward us," Elsie began, not sure what she could say that would ever repay anyone for what they'd been given. "I don't know how to begin to –"

"Then don't," Daisy advised with a snorting laugh from the corner. "I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say we just want you and Mr. Carson to be happy." She held up her little baby boy and said, "Live every day like you're little and new, like George here – and love like your life depends on it."

"Hear hear," Mary agreed. "I've never heard it said so well. Aunt Elsie, Uncle Charlie, we wish you all the best of health and happiness. A toast! To Charles and Elspeth Carson – may your days be long and happy, and your nights longer and a hell of a lot happier," she shouted, holding up a glass of champagne.

"To Charles and Elsie!" everyone else echoed around the room.

Elsie didn't remember much of the rest of the party – it was all a blur of faces and music and food and cake and dancing and much too much wine. But what she did remember was Charles's arm around her hips, steadying her as they walked up the stairs to the front door of their house. She remembered him ushering the girls to bed. She remembered dancing to the silence in the room, but yet to the sounds of the magic between them. And she remembered feeling whole for the first time in her life as she fell asleep in his arms.


	21. Chapter 21

So, it's been a very, very long time since I've updated this story. To be honest, every time I started writing the smutty honeymoon, it went off the rails. SO, finally, I'm continuing in a totally different vein. I don't anticipate many more chapters, but at least there's something, eh?

* * *

XXI:

Six months later –

* * *

The day was insanely hot and the air was moist with all the disgustingness of London in the summertime. Charles was busy puttering around the house with Lady on his heels, doing what needed doing. The seal on the pipes beneath the bathroom sink needed tweaking. The light bulb in the attic needed replacing (or they would have a real horror movie situation on their hands). The broken leg on his and Elsie's bed needed propping up – and it wasn't as if he didn't have the books to do it with. (It was easier than finding a lad to help him carry up a new bed frame and live with the humiliation of someone else knowing that they had broken the bed during a particularly enthusiastic night of… well, to be brutally honest, fucking. There hadn't been any love in that – just raw heat and the brutality of a hard day of tension broken.) And then the little things like making sure that the laundry was done and Lady was groomed.

Retirement was boring as hell. Every day was the same as the next.

It wasn't as if he had even had a choice in retiring – he'd been told flatly by Robert that he was selling the paper to settle his debts and he would rather that Charles take that early retirement he'd been offered. The first few weeks of not working had been amazing: he could sleep in, he could catch up on his reading, on spending time with Gwen and Susan… and Elsie.

But then it settled in that he never had to go back to work. That his days of free expensive meals and indulging his love of wine were effectively over. That he was driving the children absolutely mad.

Elsie, however, seemed delighted that he was home whenever she was.

He was in the process of cleaning the toilet (vile as that might seem, it had to be done) when his phone started ringing. Curiously pulling it out of his pocket and peering at the screen, he sighed in annoyance when it was just a random number with Metropolitan Police as the ID. "Hello?" Charles said in an irritated tone.

"Mr. Charles Carson?"

"Yes – can you give me just a second? I'm head first in the toilet," Charles grumbled.

"This is Chief Detective Inspector Andrea Flynn," the woman continued without waiting for him to finish or say he was finished with his plumbing expedition. "I'm calling about your wife, Mr. Carson. She was found floating in the Lea this morning and –"

He nearly passed out right there. "Elsie?" he gasped, sitting down.

"Um, no… I suppose I should have said your ex-wife. Alice Devon Marcus?"

Charles stayed on the floor, comforted by the cool tile. "Alice is dead?"

"It appears to be a suicide. She was carrying a waterproof case with your name, phone number, address, and a letter written to someone called Susan."

He covered his eyes with a hand. "Our daughter."

"I'm calling to ask on behalf of the department if you will come down to the morgue and positively identify the body."

"She wasn't a good person," Charles sighed, "but she didn't deserve an end in the bloody river."

"Apparently, she thought otherwise."

It struck him hard, the cruelty of the finality that the words 'Alice is dead' and how they stuck in the back of his head, in behind the words in the back of his throat, waiting to come out. And suicide? Had she been so desperate, then?

"I'll be wherever you need me to be in an hour," Charles said quietly.

He didn't have anywhere else to be.

* * *

Elsie settled in across the table from Mary and waited for the younger woman to speak. She'd not seen hide nor hair of the Crawley clan – with the exception of Sybil, Tom, and Sybbie – since Charles had retired. It was strange, but she hadn't dwelled upon it too much. "So… how are you?" Elsie finally prompted after several minutes of uncharacteristic silence.

"I'm fine," Mary said, glancing at her warily. "How is Uncle Charles?"

"He's… restless." That was the best word Elsie could come up with. He wasn't discontent, precisely, but he wasn't exactly happy, either. And he wouldn't talk about it, so she really took the brunt of his frustration when they had sex – he was needy, demanding… but not in a violent or selfish way. It was difficult to explain and she hesitated to bring up her sex life with the younger woman.

"What my father did was unconscionable," Mary sighed. "To give him no option at all but to retire because he couldn't be bothered to keep a handle on his money. It was… infuriating to stand by and watch."

"I hope your family isn't… too adversely affected," Elsie said cautiously.

"Papa has taken to buying and selling property now," Mary said with a delicate snort. "Grandmama and I have sunk our portions of the money into a… rather more lucrative endeavor, to be honest."

"Really?" Elsie inquired with a raised brow.

"Yes," Mary said with a small smile. "We bought the paper before he could sell it to Scripps or the BBC. We've been struggling to keep everything floating until all of the new contracts came in and we could change the name. But now, we're coming back up for air. And I was going to offer Uncle Charles a job."

Elsie blinked. "Well… that isn't what I expected to hear," she said quietly.

In February, he had come home from work a broken man, a box of his belongings from the office in hand, dismal and frustrated with the world. She understood how depressed he was getting, if only because he wasn't talking about it. But to expect him to go back to work now?

"Are you cross with me?" Mary asked abruptly.

"No – I just… it's an untenable position to be in," Elsie admitted. "On the one hand, I think he would be thrilled to get back to work, but on the other… he will miss spending time with the girls."

"Well, he can always bring Susan along," Mary commented. "She can keep us hip to the changing face of new media – Twitter, and the like."

"Social media isn't really her forte," Elsie said, sighing and taking a sip of her coffee. "To be honest, I don't know why you're talking to me instead of to Charles."

"Because I don't want to waste my time," Mary said, exhaling roughly – almost petulantly. "If Uncle Charles feels some kind of beholden to my father, if he will protest the very thought of an offer, I would like to be spared the humiliation of begging him to come and work for me. I want the best for my paper, Aunt Elsie – and for the longest time, I thought my father did, as well. Then everything went to hell and I've been left to pick up the pieces. If Uncle Charles would feel that he's better off retiring and staying home… just tell me. Please."

Elsie set her mug aside and muttered, "Of course he's bloody well miserable with nothing to do all day but garden and read. If you ask him to go back to work, he'll literally jump out the window to catch the Tube."

Mary hesitated, then said, "Trouble in paradise?"

"No – we're fine. Aside from him feeling like he's doing nothing all day," Elsie sighed. "He comes to the shop some days and sits for hours, just reading the newspaper and pretending he's not desperate for company."

"That doesn't sound like him at all," Mary said, making an indelicate face the way one would if they smelled rotten fish or an immense pollutant fart. "Would you… oppose… me offering him employment, Elsie?"

"Mary, if it gave me back my husband and his love of life, I would bloody well kiss you," Elsie sighed. "I've run out of ideas." She paused for a moment, then said, "When did you buy the paper?"

"Second week of January – Grandmama and I pooled our money and bailed Papa out of the soup," Mary sighed. "Matthew had a sizable income from his first wife's estate that came to me, and god knows Grandmama made much sounder investments than Papa ever did. Your shop, incredibly, seems to be the most prudent of all. I do love the expansion – and the little door so people can pop back and forth between the coffee shop and the pie shop is genius."

Elsie's smile waned. "But you've known for some time that you've wanted to offer Charlie a job?"

"I wasn't certain that the management shift was going to take," Mary admitted. "We lost nearly all of the staff, and for a while, Sybil, Edith and I were writing every article, designing every page… programming the website ourselves. Sleep is a concept I really don't have time for anymore. I want Uncle Charles back and running at least a chunk of the paper so I can breathe for a moment. I trust him implicitly."

"And he trusts you," Elsie added with a sigh. "He would follow you to the ends of the earth."

"No, just to the middle of Africa or somesuch," Mary teased a little. "You're the one he'd follow right off a cliff, Mrs. Carson. I've never seen Uncle Charles as happy as he is with you. That's why I came to you first. If you were to tell me to shove off and let him be, I would."

"No, you wouldn't," Elsie said.

"Well… I would for a couple of days, at least," Mary acknowledged with a wry twist of the lips. "Do I have your blessing?"

"You make it sound like you're marrying him to the business," Elsie scoffed.

"Would it help if I told you that female readership in the demographic age range of 48-75 is absolutely suckered in by him?" Mary asked, coyly batting her eyelashes.

"Sweetheart, if you told me that anyone under forty had a crush on my Charlie, I might have a heart attack and perish the thought," Elsie said, chuckling. "He is a big handsome chunk, isn't he?"

Mary made that disgusted face again. "Please don't."

Elsie's phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her bra, glancing at the message from Charles. She stopped, then reread it and gasped.

 _Alice is dead. Death by misadventure. Suicide, most likely. Don't tell Susan; I need to be the one to do it. I love you, Els. I know I'm a grumpy bugger lately, but I love you just as much as I always have._

"What's wrong?" Mary asked.

Elsie bit her lip. "Something's happened. I need to go," she said quickly. "But please, feel free to – to – do whatever you were planning to do as far as offering him a job."

"What's happened?" Mary asked. "Is there anything I can do to –"

"No, I just need to get home," Elsie said firmly. "Go back to work, please. I will let you know – or Charles will – if we need anything."

Mary hesitated a moment, then exhaled. "Someone died, didn't they?"

Elsie paused in divesting herself of her apron and merely nodded.

"It's just… everyone goes a bit funny when someone dies," Mary explained. "No one wanted to tell me that Matthew died. Everyone kept dancing around me until Uncle Charles finally took me aside and told me that he'd crashed the car and there was no coming back from that. My own parents couldn't even bloody look me in the eye. It was… indescribable."

Elsie bit her lip and sighed. "It was Alice."

Mary pulled a face. "Bloody hell," she muttered. "Good riddance to bad rubbish, finally."

"Well, now, Susan has to live with it," Elsie murmured. "And sometimes, the scars of the living are worse than the ones that come with death. Believe me: it's going to be rough for a while."

"If you need anything – anything at all," Mary said quickly.

"We will call," Elsie promised.

"All right," Mary agreed, pushing an errant strand of hair back over her ear. "Just… Elsie, don't let her think the worst. Don't let her think that anything her mother did was her fault."

"Matthew dying was not your fault," Elsie said firmly.

"We fought –"

"And that had no bearing at all on the fact that he popped a tire and ran off the road into a tree," Elsie declared. "Not your circus and definitely not your monkeys, missy. Now… I'd best get the shop turned over to my trained monkeys and pray that the house is in one piece when I get there."

* * *

The house was relatively quiet when Elsie got there. She could hear Gwen shuffling around upstairs, once in a while singing in an off-key fashion whatever lyrics from the latest nonsense music the kids were listening to. And Elsie found Susan sprawled on the large sofa in the living room with a book and her headphones in.

The calm before the storm: Charles hadn't arrived back from the police station yet. Once he was here and the terrible blow delivered… who knew what would happen?

She made a decision then, and bent down, giving Susan a kiss on the forehead. The girl looked up, startled, and yanked her earbuds out. "Elsie, I thought you were at work?"

"I was, but I thought I'd take the afternoon off and we could bake some biscuits," Elsie said with what she hoped passed muster for cheerfulness. "Any objections?"

"We… as in you and Gwen and me?"

"Well, I was hoping for your father and Gwen, too – where did he go?"

"Dad left about two hours ago," Susan replied quickly. "He didn't say where he was going, just that we shouldn't do anything too destructive while he was gone. Does baking count in that vein, I wonder?"

Elsie laughed. "Beryl would say so, I'd think," she teased. "Come on, get up and wash your hands already."

If she could keep Susan focused on something good… maybe it would help? It certainly couldn't hurt.

"But I'm reading," Susan protested. "Can't we bake biscuits when Dad gets back? He'll be cross if we don't let him at least pretend to help."

"I don't know when he'll be back," Elsie admitted. "So wouldn't it be nice to have a nice warm plate of biscuits waiting when he gets here?"

"Why are you pushing the sodding biscuits down my throat?" Susan demanded. She paused, searching Elsie's face for any sign of duplicity. "What's happened? What's wrong?"

"There's… well – I shouldn't without your father being here –"

Susan blinked at her and said, "Oh no. No. Please tell me you're not giving me back to mum. Please no –"

"No," Elsie said firmly, gently grasping Susan's wrists in her hands. "No, we're not sending you back to that woman. Not now, not ever."

"But dad was so angry earlier – I thought he was going to go through the phone –"

"No," Elsie said softly. "He's not angry with you. He's frustrated about not working, but he isn't cross with any of us. I promise. And especially not you, love." She reached up and stroked Susan's cheek. "Something happened to your mum. I'm not sure what; that's why dad left so quickly and probably why he shouted earlier. But it will all be okay, I promise."

Susan bit her lip and mumbled, "I hope it wasn't one of her boyfriends – she might've called dad to help her get away from a bad'un."

"I don't know, love," Elsie lied gently. "Come with me, why don't you, and let's make some biscuits…"

Gwen stomped down the stairs and announced, "I'm pretty sure Taylor Swift is just regurgitating her last album with new crap."

"Watch your mouth," Elsie warned.

Gwen sighed and muttered, "When did you get home?"

"Before me," Charles announced from the front foyer, having caught the tail end of the conversation. "Els, can I speak to you in the kitchen?"

"Elsie?" Susan said, her voice tiny and frightened. Gwen picked up on the vibes in the room and swooped in to try and distract Susan.

Elsie went with Charles into the kitchen and he sighed heavily. "She committed suicide," he said very quickly, his voice low as a whisper. "I can't tell Susan that."

"You have to – she'll know you're lying otherwise," Elsie murmured. "She's already worried and suspicious because I came home in the middle of the afternoon, wanting to bake biscuits."

He shot her a confused, semi-disgusted look. "Your biscuits are rubbish."

"Well, yes, I know that," Elsie huffed.

"Well, since you know so much… why don't you tell me what I should tell her?" he challenged.

"Tell her the truth: Alice is dead. And then you reassure her till you're bloody blue in the face that you aren't going to send her to France to live with your mother," Elsie sighed.

"Mum's dead?"

Charles and Elsie's heads both whipped toward the door, where Susan was lingering. "Suzie –"

"Mum's dead?" Susan repeated, her voice a quiet squeak.

"She is," Charles confirmed.

"How – when?" Susan asked. "She sent me a text just this morning, saying she was on her way to Aberdeen with a band –"

"Today," Charles said with a sigh. "This morning."

"Did someone – did someone do it to her?" Susan whispered.

"No," Charles said. "She… did it to herself, love."

"Suicide."

"I'd prefer 'death by misadventure'."

"So she can't come back and take me away again?" Susan exhaled.

"I would say that would be physically impossible," Elsie supplied unhelpfully. "Besides, we're enjoying having you around too much to ship you off to the afterlife, love."

Susan took a deep breath, then said, "So I guess this is why you wanted to make biscuits."

"Maybe a little," Elsie admitted.

"I need to be alone for a while," Susan said, her voice taking on a sharp edge. "Please don't come get me for at least an hour. I need…"

"Sweetheart, I know this is a shock –"

"No, not really," Susan said. "I've been waiting for a call to say she's gone and overdosed or gotten strung up or… something. For a very long time. It's just…"

"You weren't ready for it to actually happen?" Charles interjected gently. "I understand. Believe me. Go upstairs and take whatever time you need. Els and Gwen and I will be here when you're ready to talk."

Susan nodded and they listened as she tore up the stairs without preamble and the door to her room slammed. Gwen peered around the corner, then said, "So that slag finally bit it?"

"Gwendolyn Hughes!" Elsie gasped.

"It's no worse than what Suzie says behind closed doors," Gwen said defensively.

Charles looked at Elsie and sighed. "I don't know what to do," he admitted.

"We'll order in dinner and pretend everything is okay," Elsie said.

"But it isn't," he pointed out.

"No shit," Elsie muttered. "I don't know what to do either. I don't know how to make her pain – or yours – any less. Alice was a vile, loathsome woman, but she was still a person – a person that both of you loved."

Charles shook his head. "I never really loved her," he admitted quietly. "Not at all in the same way I love you. It was…"

"She's a bitch and I'm glad she's dead," Gwen piped up. "She was just as bad a mom as mine was. You both know it, so don't pretend you can slap a layer of paint on her shit and call it art. I'm sorry you and Suzie hurt now, but that… woman is dead and can't hurt you anymore. Like my mom. She can't hurt me anymore. Only I can do that now, remembering her. So don't make her out to be nice when she wasn't. She was… very naughty." She climbed up to the breakfast bar and said, "And I vote for fish and chips for dinner."


	22. Chapter 22

I know, it's been over six months and no update. Again. And this one is rather a bit piss poor, tbh. But still. It's an update.

XXII:

Charles was already propped up in bed, glasses on his nose, and the crossword in hand – done in pen, mind you… no pencil – his pajamas buttoned down and offering an air of closed offed-ness as Elsie came out of the bathroom, rubbing cream into her hands. She watched him for a few moments, then murmured, "You mustn't let today get you down too low. Susan needs you to help guide her through this mess."

He glanced up at her over the rims of his glasses, scowling a bit. "And am I not allowed to have time to grieve myself?"

"That isn't what I mean and you know it," she sighed, shedding her robe and letting it pool to the floor in a heap. Normally, she would have hung it up and fussed at her husband for doing the exact same thing, but tonight… everything was different, suffused with an air of pessimism and sadness. She didn't care: it was just a robe, after all. Small potatoes compared to the loss of life. "You're her father: she needs you to steer the ship, after all."

"A year ago, I didn't even know that I was a father," he pointed out as she climbed into bed. "Alice was a distant, bitter memory."

"A year can change a lot of things," she reminded him, pulling the blankets up around herself and smiling a little. "A year ago, I could barely grasp that you were in love with me, let alone… anything else that's happened. And I wouldn't trade it for the world. You and the girls mean more to me than… god, I don't even know. The bloody shop, I guess." She leaned over and gave him a gentle kiss, loving the feel of him against her. "I guess that's what I was living for before – you showed me the error of my ways, Charlie Carson."

"You shouldn't be looking to me," he scoffed with a sigh. "God knows I hate her, Els. I really do. I've never loathed a human being more in my life than that woman, and now she's dead, what's the damn point?"

"There isn't one," she admitted quietly. "It's just unresolved feelings, isn't it? I mean, look at me – I still hate Joe for leaving me for Becky and her magical vagina… but what's the damn point of that? I just wish I knew for Gwen's sake who her father was. I don't even care about myself in the whole mess anymore – she's as much my daughter as my niece now. I'm indignant for her sake." She pursed her lips together, thinking for a moment. "Alice was a shit human being, aye, but she gave you the one thing you never thought you'd have: a bairn of your own flesh and blood. And however much you hate her, don't take it out on Susan. Feel free to take it out on me – but don't make Susan pay for Alice's bad behavior."

"God, what must you take me for," he said, staring at her with wide, horrified eyes. "I would never – not in a million years –"

"She needs you to be steady and calm in the storm," Elsie murmured, holding his hand atop the duvet. "And you can hold my hand if you need to feel steady: I've got no stake in this, save for keeping my family together."

"That is no small stake." His voice was soft, earnest. "I'm sorry I've been such a beast since I retired –"

"Oh, don't," she dismissed. "You're not built for a life of leisure. We'll find something for you to do to feel productive again – even if it's just making things in the shed." Elsie smiled a little, teasing him. "Or playing with Sybbie."

"I can't make things," he protested. "I'm better at –"

"I can think of a few things you're very good at, Mr. Carson," she murmured seductively. "But they aren't generally for public consumption. Many of your readers would be terribly shocked."

He pouted; she longed to kiss his pout away. "I haven't got any readers anymore," he reminded her in as petulant a tone as any little boy who had his favorite toy taken away and broken.

"Oh, come on, you expect me to believe that your blog doesn't get hits?" she teased, rubbing her foot up and down his leg. "I know better, Charlie. You've got a dedicated little group of ladies who like to hear you prattle about the state of London's food. I'm not jealous of them because you're in my bed every night – but, boy, I'd like to see the looks on their faces if they knew what you like to get up to behind closed doors."

She wanted to distract him, to give him something else to focus on besides the trauma of the day. Sex was a cheap ploy, but sometimes, the best distractions were the simple, basest ones. And she was tired of fighting – for his attention, for her shop, for their life together. She wanted just a few minutes to _ **BE**_ alone with him. However, Mr. Charles Carson wasn't making any of it easy.

"Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do," he muttered. "You're trying to assure me that I am still relevant, despite having my world ripped away from me –"

"I thought the girls and I were your world," Elsie huffed, the momentary sting from his words affecting her. "But, no matter – you'll be thrilled when Mary comes round, then. You can get back to _your world_ and leave the rest of us to fend for ourselves."

"What are you on about?"

"She wants to offer you a job," she said. "God only knows why."

"What kind of a job?" he asked warily. "I don't do toilets."

"As opposed to me?" she snapped. He was being deliberately obtuse and she wasn't in the mood now to put up with it. "Of course, it's the only bloody damn job you seem to think you're suited for: food and wine editor, you gigantic lummox."

"Food and wine editor of what exactly?"

"Oh for – for god's sake, are ye daft, man? She bought the paper off Robert and is trying to float it again – seems he'd done a really good job of flushing money down the crapper rather than actually running the damn thing. And she wants your help." Elsie pushed her hair back out of her eyes and flopped back onto her pillow. She was jealous; she knew it and owned it for what it was. She hated the way Mary and Cora crooked their fingers and Charles ran headlong at them with no thought of the consequences. Yes, she was envious of his obvious predilection toward them… but that little voice in the back of her head reminded her that he had married her. They had made a life together. He came home every night and locked the doors and tucked them all in… and he wasn't doing it out of pity.

"And if I don't want to help?"

She craned her neck around, staring at him blankly. "You're a buggering ape if you don't. It's everything you've been moaning and mooning over since you retired; why the hell wouldn't you want to help Mary?"

"Would you stop yelling at me?" he asked with a sigh. "I don't want to talk about this right now. I also don't want a pity shag or whatever you were trying to be coy about a few minutes ago."

"A pity shag?" she repeated with a barking laugh. "As if such a thing exists. If I pitied you, I wouldn't want to shag you. I'd want to cuddle and coddle you."

"My wife died –"

"Your ex-wife," she countered. "Because I'm still right here, still trying to get you to bloody well talk to me." She crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from him, staring at a fixed point on the wall – the crack that he insisted wasn't there and yet kept trying to cover up with a painting. "I am your wife, Charles. Alice was nothing to you at her end." It was difficult not to sound bitter; but he wasn't going to talk to her unless she threw herself under him and let him throw a few daggers in her direction first.

It's just who he was: repressed, self-loathing, and full of turmoil.

And she was poking the bear, trying to get a response when she was so worked up and tired of confrontation that her hands were already shaking. As soon as she realized that, she climbed out of bed and went to the en suite to get her pills.

She took her pills – the ones for an extreme attack – and closed her eyes, willing the world to stop spinning around her. It had been a long and trying day, her emotions high and unchecked, her anxiety level rising higher and higher till it was almost at a fever pitch –

And yet, she was still poking the bear.

Anything to make him realize he was human. He needed to break just as much as she did. Maybe more.

She stifled a startled cry when Charles's arms came around her waist, enveloping her in warmth and a feeling of profound safety. "Els, I'm sorry," he whispered against her neck. "I just –"

"Talk to me," she pleaded. "Tell me about your day – tell me about her. Something, Charlie, anything – don't just shut me out. That's all you've done since you quit working. You won't talk to me, you aren't –"

"I'm not good enough for you and the girls and I know it," he said, his voice low and small. "Susan, especially, would be better off without me – god knows her mother did her no favors and now I'm… I'm not cut out to parent anyone."

"That's not true," Elsie whispered, leaning back against him, trusting him to support her as the medicine kicked in and she grew light-headed. "You're doing fine. There is no… there's no right or wrong way to do it, Charlie. And we're coming at it so late in the game that it's more like refereeing than parenting. You can't expect to be amazing at it on the first go."

"I failed Susan," he said simply. "I failed to be there when she needed me most –"

"She needed you today," she murmured. "And you were there. That is what is important, Charles. You were there for her in one of her darkest hours – and she will remember that always."

"You okay?" he asked gently.

"Not really," she replied. "Today was hard. I'm not sure I can…" Her voice trailed off. Best be honest with him, eh? He'd find out eventually. "I found a lump in my breast." No need to tell him which one; there was only one left. "I found a lump, scheduled a screening with my oncologist, had a breakdown in the car on the way to the therapist's, found out that my husband's ex-wife killed herself…" It was too much to bear.

The sudden exhale of his breath and a strangled sob hurt her more than any words he could've hurled at her. "Els, why didn't you –"

"It didn't signify – it didn't matter," she insisted quickly. "Not when you and the girls –"

"It does matter," he said, turning her to face him. "It matters, Elspeth."

"It could be anything," she scoffed dismissively, not wanting him to see her vulnerability again. "It could be a cyst or a benign something or other –"

"Or cancer. Again." His voice was flat.

"My point being – we don't know. I don't know. No one does. And if it is… if it is…"

"Elsie."

"If it is, I need you to be here for them," she said quickly. "You'll have to be. Because I won't be able to be."

He tightened his grip, nearly crushing her to him. "Damn it, Els, you can't give up before you've even begun to fight." His words were choked with tears, and she reached up to wipe them off his cheeks.

"Hey, now, you big old arse, who the hell said anything about me giving up?" Elsie whispered. "Come on, you know I'm too stubborn for that by half – hey, love, don't cry for me… don't you dare feel sorry for me, Charles Carson. Don't you dare. Because then I'll feel sorry for myself and shit will really hit the fan, eh? I just meant that I'll be worse than useless during the treatments if it's like before. You and Beryl waited on me hand and bloody foot, remember? I'll be in no position to take care of anybody. That's what I meant. I'm not givin' up because I've got a hell of a lot of living to do yet. We haven't been on a sin tour or anything yet."

"A sin tour?"

"Basically, we drive around France, drinking wine, eating food, and fucking," she explained. "I was saving that for our anniversary."

He choked out a laugh. "Good plan."

"The best plan," she replied, nodding and trying not to cry. "So… today was a bad day. Tomorrow will be better." Her voice cracked and broke on the last word, but she held everything back. "It has to be better. Mary will come talk to you and you'll accept and have a job and a purpose again – and we'll wake up and Alice will still be dead."

"I don't know if that's better," he muttered.

"Trust me, it's in the plus column," Elsie sighed, leaning into his embrace and holding on for dear life. "How did you meet her?"

"At a party. I was drunk, she was stoned, the sex was good."

She bit back a snide comment, then said, "I suppose I deserved that."

"It's the truth," he said simply. "We were good together till we weren't. And it's my fault."

"That's like me blaming myself for Joe going off and fucking my sister," Elsie said. "Not even in the slightest my fault, and yet… somehow, I convinced myself that it was. Everything she did to you and Susan, she chose to do, Charlie. It isn't your fault. It's Alice's." The words seemed hollow as they left her lips, but she hoped they sounded convincing.

"I don't want to talk about her."

"I know," Elsie murmured. "And I don't want to talk about who's going to mind the shop while I'm getting my other breast hacked off and – and – god, Charlie, I can't do this alone again. I can't."

"You won't," he promised, pressing his forehead to hers. His kiss was light, tender, sweet. She didn't want anything more than him holding her, reassuring her that she was safe if only for a moment. "You aren't alone, Els. Not anymore. Not ever again."


	23. Chapter 23

You good boys and girls get another chapter. YAY AND THINGS!

* * *

XXIII:

* * *

Elsie left the warm shelter of her bed – and Charles's snoring – when it became readily apparent that sleep was going to elude her. She didn't know what had caused her to jolt awake, but the ragged, jagged harshness of his breathing wasn't comforting her in the slightest. She grabbed her phone from her bedside table and used its flashlight to hunt for her dressing gown, finally finding it on the floor near the en suite. That was the most important reason she always put her clothes away when she was done with them – so she could find them in the darkness with ease when it was time to get up and ready for work.

It was nearly three; too early for work, but too late to attempt to get back to bed. She muttered under her breath and headed to the kitchen, Lady following her sleepily, wagging her tail as if Elsie would feed her or give her a treat or something.

She flipped on the light in the kitchen, surprised to see Susan sitting at the table with a highball glass full of milk and a handful of Jammie Dodgers. "Hello, there," Elsie greeted softly. "Couldn't sleep?"

Susan shook her head and swallowed a mouthful of biscuit before she said, "Nightmares."

"Oh, love," Elsie sighed, heading over and hugging the girl around the shoulders. "You know you can come wake us up if you need to –"

"No, you need your sleep," Susan protested. "More than I do, anyway."

"Stuff and nonsense," Elsie scoffed with a small smile. "You've been working just as hard as I've been lately. Even Tom is impressed – you know how difficult it is to make him happy."

"Not as hard as it is to make you happy," Susan said, then looked remorseful at having said it.

"Ah, the truth comes out," Elsie teased in a very stern tone. "You're just in it to make your suffering stepmother happy –"

"I didn't mean it like that," Susan protested in alarm, shrinking away from Elsie like she was afraid. "I just meant –"

"Darlin', I'm only taking the piss," Elsie assured her softly. "Don't you ever think for a moment that I mean a word of it. You and Gwen make me very happy, even when you're behaving like godless heathens." She hugged Susan again, then pulled up a chair and sat down where she could face the girl. "Now, about these nightmares of yours –"

"They're not important."

"Of course they are," Elsie said. "I still have nightmares from waking up in the middle of having my tonsils out when I was four. I thought it was the worst bloody pain in my life – till I got my period." She raised an eyebrow. "Now…"

"I don't want to talk about them. You're not supposed to speak ill of the dead or they'll haunt you." There were already shadows beneath Susan's eyes and Elsie wondered how long she hadn't been sleeping properly – weeks, if the state of the biscuit tin was anything to go by.

"They're about your mum, then?" Elsie questioned. When Susan nodded, she let out a huffy sigh. "Seems like that harridan is already haunting you, though through no fault of your own, love. Why anyone would give that cow the satisfaction of sparing her a thought is beyond me –"

"That cow was my mother."

"She might have given you birth, but I doubt she treated you as a mother should have done," Elsie said sharply, reminded very abruptly that the girl was no more hers than she had been her husband's until a few months ago. "And I am sorry for that. So is your Da. He would have fought for you – gone to the ends of the earth for you – if only she hadn't kept silent about you."

"I know that now," Susan said, taking a drink of milk. "She didn't mean to be nasty, I don't think. I just… I don't know if she could help herself."

"Well, she should have bloody well have tried!" Elsie snapped. "You were a child; you deserved the chance of a loving home and so many things that she denied you… just because she decided to be a twat."

"You're being unfair, Elsie," Susan said, looking up with dull, lifeless eyes. "It couldn't have been easy for her. Maybe she did her best."

"Her best was not anywhere near good enough," Elsie spat.

"She's dead. It doesn't matter anymore."

"It matters if it's still hurting you."

"It's always going to hurt me," Susan said, "and nothing you and dad can do will make it stop or hurt any less. Don't you understand? I can't just – I can't be normal. I don't know what that is. I didn't know until I was ten that it's not… that playing 'how long can you be quiet?' and hiding under the bed in the hotel room –"

Elsie stared at her in horror. "Oh my god," she breathed. "Seriously? She made you –"

"It wasn't her fault – I had to be quiet so she could earn money for us to stay in one place," the girl murmured. "Men wouldn't pay her if they knew a kid was in there."

"Christ Jesus on a bloody cross," Elsie uttered despite herself, feeling faintly sick to her stomach. "Oh, sweetheart –"

"I prayed and prayed that Dad would find me someday," Susan mumbled. "And then I stopped believing that there was a god who cared enough to help me."

Elsie reached over and held Susan's hand. "You are here now and you are safe," she said firmly. "Your Da and I won't allow anything to happen to you. Do you understand? You and Gwen are our family. You're our girls. We won't let anything happen."

"You can't stop things from happening to us –"

"But we are in your corner – always," Elsie swore earnestly. "You're the closest thing I'm ever going to have to a child of my own. Do you think for even a second that I would –"

"She was my mum," Susan said simply. "And she always said she loved me, even when I didn't know if she was going to hug me or hit me."

Elsie started to cry, her heart going out to the young woman. "Oh, love, I am not _that woman_ ," she choked out. "And I am ashamed to hear you claim her as your mother – she may have given you birth, but Alice was no mother. No mother at all. Not that I can claim to be any better – but god, won't you let me at least try?"

"I'm too old for all that now."

"My mother was something else again," Elsie said with a sigh as she swiped at her eyes. "But I still find myself wanting to call her and tell her things – like that I met the nicest, kindest gentle bear of a man and that I'm very happy with him now. Like that we've taken in two lovely young ladies who need as much love and care as they'll allow us to give. Like that… that I'm terrified I'm going to die like she did, in pain and regretting so much."

"How did she die? Your mum?"

"Cancer," Elsie said very quietly. "It ate away at her brain till there weren't nothing left. She didn't know any of us at the end. That's my nightmare: that I'll die not knowing Charlie and you and Gwen – that… that it will happen and I'll never be able to stop it."

Susan mumbled, "That's so much worse than mine."

"Well, we'll spend a sleepless night together, you and I," Elsie said, finally pulling herself together and taking a deep breath. "Want I should make some coffee and we can brainstorm some ideas for new blends?"

Susan nodded, a bit of animation returning to her face. "Please. I can't stand to just… be useless."

"You're not useless," Elsie said firmly. "And anyone who says you are can go eat shit and die."

* * *

"I don't think I should beat around the bush too much, Uncle Charles," Mary said, stirring her tea to make the sugar dissolve. Charles watched her motions with interest, knowing that she didn't care what bag they plunked into her cup as long as it was strong; she didn't have a palate refined enough for sencha or any of the interesting blends.

"You never do," he agreed.

"Except with your wife," she said pointedly, raising an eyebrow. "That woman is maddening – such a busybody doing fiddly things all the time to look like she's accomplishing the world…"

"Enough," Charles sighed. "I thought you liked Elsie."

"I do, but she's… she's very common. Not at all good enough for you, really." Mary's tone was haughty and cold, and Charles wondered if she'd ever really loved anyone besides herself enough to really feel as though she was warm all the way through. "Any how – I know you've been terribly, terribly bored since Papa forced you to retire."

"Until two days ago, I would have agreed," Charles sighed. "Now, I'm just terribly tired."

"Alice's death should have no bearing on you," Mary said simply. "You were divorced for sixteen years, and estranged for five before that."

"We had Susan," he reminded her. "She's not taking it well."

"Nor should she," Mary countered. "The fact remains –"

"I am retired," Charles said, trying to keep the bitterness from seeping into his voice.

Mary smirked at him. "You don't have to be. Edith, Sybil, and I have spent the last few months floating a sinking ship – the Star Telegraph is now The Lady, and we're fully digital and interactive as well as traditional paper. And we're in desperate need of a food and wine editor."

He once would have jumped for joy at her triumphant declaration; instead, he felt faintly ill. He couldn't tell her about Elsie's possible illness, nor of how withdrawn and exhausted Susan was: it wasn't her burden. It was his responsibility, his burden, his family. To take on anything else would be tantamount to – well, to Armageddon.

"Mary, I appreciate you thinking of me –"

"You'll be reinstated at your full salary, benefits, and we'll pay into your pension," Mary interrupted.

"It's not the money that's concerning me," Charles said with a sigh. "Before… before Matthew died and I decided to court Elsie –"

"You always sound so old-fashioned," she scolded gently.

"Yes, but in this case, I had to court her, to woo her, to earn her trust," he said with a frown on his lips. "And likewise, she had to earn mine. Regardless, I had no time to myself. I worked all hours and sometimes had to call Beryl over to walk Lady. How do you plan to keep my hours steady so I can spend time with my family?"

Mary spluttered, having finally taken a sip of tea. "Dear lord, I quite forget still that you do have a life now –"

"I have two teenage girls in the house," he pointed out, "and I do enjoy spending a bit of time with Elsie once in a while. It's quite difficult to act like newlyweds when neither of you is home."

Mary wrinkled her nose. "Please don't tell me you get up to things like Mama and Papa – it's vaguely disgusting."

"I must admit that we do, in fact, have sex," Charles said. "And I do rather enjoy –"

"Oh, god, please no," Mary said, making a disgusted face. "No more of that, if you please – rather indelicate to bring it up in public."

"My point being –"

"You can work from home most of the time," Mary said, changing the subject. "I have no objections to that at all."

"Give me time to think about it, please?" Charles said with a sigh.

"I would've thought you'd been jumping for joy over it," Mary said glumly. "Instead, you're not happy at all. I don't know why."

"It's not the paper," he said. "I've got other things on my mind – and weighing down my heart."

"Well, I hope you aren't blaming yourself for Alice's untimely exit from the world," Mary sniffed. "She should've done it yonks ago and saved you and Susan a lot of heartache."

"That is your aunt you're dismissing –"

Mary wrinkled her nose. "All I remember of her was one disastrous visit where Mama and Papa paid for your tickets from Chicago to London and all she did was complain about the flat, the weather, the food, and me being underfoot. Edith was too small to be out of the pack and play, but I was always in her way and she slapped me for accidentally getting ice cream on her dress."

He groaned; that had not been a good visit. It was no wonder everyone hated Alice after hearing Mary's account of the thing. She had been little more than four years old, sweet as could be and only wanting to make friends with her Aunt Alice – and she had been shunned, bullied, and rebuked for it. "She was… difficult."

"I never understood why you married her," Mary said. "She was exceedingly cruel to you."

"I thought I loved her," he said simply.

"That's the worst excuse I've ever heard," Mary said. "The worst. I loved Matthew with all of my heart, and I cannot conceive of a reason to hurt him like Alice did you –"

"I thought I loved her," he repeated, "but I didn't know what love really was until I met Elsie." He shrugged and held up his hands in surrender. "I know that's a bit cliched, but there it is. She saved me and spoiled me and I shall never love another woman till the day I die – aside from Susan and Gwen, but that's a bit different, isn't it?"

"Only a bit," Mary scoffed.

"The truth is…" He took a deep breath and sighed. "Elsie's had some tests done and we're waiting on the results. If it's anything bad, I need – I have to be there. I cannot be committed to anything else. I wouldn't want to be away from her for even a moment – the truth is that she's burrowed into my heart and curled up and taken a nap there, strange as it sounds coming from me, and I wouldn't like her to think that she is less dear to me than a newspaper story about the newest restaurant."

"Is it really as bad as that?" she asked, eyes wide.

He sighed and lowered his gaze to his barely touched food. "It has the potential to be catastrophic," Charles admitted.

"I do not begrudge you the right to refuse the offer," Mary said. "But it will always be open, should you wish to reconsider –"

"I'm not sure I'll find the need to," he countered.

"I hope she'll be all right – she showed no signs at all of being ill, or even thinking that she was, the other day when we talked," Mary said.

"She wouldn't, would she?" Charles said with a sigh. "Stubborn as anything is my Elsie."

"How _do_ you put up with that?" Mary asked.

"It's one of her most endearing qualities," he said, finally cracking a smile.


	24. Chapter 24

Here there be Scottish dragons and smutty deliberations. Ye be forewarned.

* * *

XXIV:

* * *

Elsie was beginning to have second thoughts about her bravado from earlier; telling Charles that she didn't need him to accompany her to the oncologist's, that she was a big girl and she needed to go it alone just this once more, had seemed like a good idea at the time. He needed to focus on himself for a day or two and stop smothering her; and she needed to know once and for all if it was to be good news or bad. If it was bad, she already had a solicitor waiting for her updated will, and if it was good, she intended to stop and buy something risqué to surprise her husband with.

But now she was sat in the waiting room, her fingers playing idly with the straps of her handbag, fidgeting, twitching, wishing she wasn't so anxious. Her pills were keeping her sane, but just barely; she'd worked herself into a right state the night before and no amount of medication had gotten her off to sleep. As such, she was an exhausted shade of herself as she tapped her foot on the carpeted floor to a nonsensical beat in the back of her head. Nonsensical until she realized it was the crazy tattoo of her heart, beating crazily out of whack.

"Elspeth Carson?" The nurse was young, fresh-faced, and smiling warmly. However did Richard Clarkson think a cheerful slip of a girl would look to the battle-scarred, world-weary cancer patients that crossed his doorstep every day? Elsie envied her smile and her youth for a single moment before she passed through the door behind the nurse. "And how are you today, ma'am?"

"How do you think?" Elsie asked, laughing bitterly. "Terrified; I'm facing my own mortality for the second time, and if you think that's not frightening, my husband's at home waiting with baited breath to hear if my news is good or bad. I don't think he signed up for that bit. He wanted a full marriage, and god, is he getting it."

The nurse's smile faltered. "Well, I –"

"I think I'm as well as can be expected under the circumstances," Elsie interrupted, a pang of conscience kicking in and reminding her she had no right to unload her burdens on anyone else. "And yourself?"

"I'm fine, ma'am," the nurse said, her megawatt smile returning to full force. "Now, I'm going to check our information versus your file and then Dr. Clarkson will be in to give you the results of your tests." She rattled off a few things, address, insurance details, medical records, and the like, then instructed Elsie to change into an exam gown as she left.

The lights felt harsh and artificial, catching every bit of roughness in her skin as she changed, staring downward at her offending breast before covering it up again with the gown. Alone with her thoughts, she began to think the worst things, including how Charles would no longer want her if it came to removing her other breast.

The door opened and Richard stood there, looking just as suave and debonair as he had when they'd gone out two or three times at Beryl's behest. He looked surprised for a split second, then covered it with a warm smile. "Elsie," he greeted. "I see you've changed your name –"

She nodded and exhaled the bit of air she'd not realized she'd been holding in till it was gone. "I married a very lovely man at Christmas," Elsie said softly. "You seem… surprised?"

Richard's smile was wan. "He must be something, your Mr. Carson."

She nodded and murmured, "He is, Richard, and I'll not upset our peace by bringing up old wounds."

"As it happens, I've met someone myself," he commented. "But that's neither here nor there, all things considered. How are you feeling this afternoon?"

"Tired," she confessed. "And a bit terrified of those test results."

"Then allow me to put your mind at ease; the lump in your breast is a benign fatty tumor. You also have several cysts that could conceivably become an issue in the near future. You are still in remission, as far as the scans and biopsies can determine." He retrieved gloves from the dispenser and said, "That being said, the tumor is quite large at this stage and could be rather uncomfortable if allowed to continue its growth, and if your cancer returns, there is the possibility of it becoming an issue." He gestured for her to untie the gown, and he dispassionately prodded her breast, listening to her sharp inhalation of pain. "My recommendation at this time is an extreme one, but given your history…"

"Mastectomy?" she supplied very quietly, biting her lip.

He nodded and sighed. "I believe that a radical mastectomy is necessary at this stage. It is not a procedure that I dole out as a rule –"

"Maybe we should do the both, then?" she suggested, her voice barely more than a breath. "Save us more time and trouble down the line when things play up again."

"I recommend a series of counseling visits before the procedure, just so you can talk your feelings through –"

"God, it's just my breasts," she said, laughing softly. "Lop them off; see if I give a tinker's damn. It's not like I've been usin' them for anything at all." Her laughter turned abruptly to tears. "Damn it. I said I weren't going to cry, didn't I, but I'm just – I'm so happy it's not cancer, really I am. I just – no – I don't want it to ever be cancer again. Anything we can do to prevent it, let's do. Please. Just book the surgery. Soon. Sooner the better. Hell, today even, if you could somehow manage it."

"Elsie, I don't think you grasp the –"

"Oh, I grasp it verra well, Richard," Elsie countered. "I'm not dying and I've been walking around the last week like I was – and moving forward, I'll not put my family through that hell again." She smiled, the lift of her lips never wavering, though she felt her courage to be far less than it should be. "Book the surgery and we'll speak no more of it."

"You are certain?"

She nodded. "As certain as I've ever been about anything at all in my life, Dr. Clarkson," she said with unwavering conviction. "What do I need to know about the surgery?"

* * *

It was after seven and Elsie still hadn't gotten home. Charles was pacing the kitchen, trying not to worry the girls anymore than he had to. Dinner was in the oven – Beryl had brought over a casserole of some persuasion – and he'd already gone through a bottle of wine on his own. He was feeling a bit unsteady, out of sorts, desperately hoping that she'd just come home already and tell him the worst.

The front door opened, then closed with a clatter. "Hello, anyone here?" Elsie called.

"In the kitchen, love," Charles shouted back.

"Oh, good, I've brought something to go with dinner," she said loudly, her voice growing nearer with every step. "Can you get the bucket and fill it with ice?"

His heart lurched; champagne with dinner? Surely –

She came into the kitchen, Lady on her heels, a smile on her lips. Elsie brandished a bottle of very expensive champagne and said, "Ice. Bucket. Now, Charlie."

"Els –"

"It's not cancer," she said simply. "I'll tell you the rest later, but right now… we're going to drink and be merry as you like because I'm bloody well not going to die."

"We're all going to die someday –"

"Well, that's cheered me up no end," Elsie said, scowling at him. "Did ye not hear a bloody word I said? It's not cancer and I'm not dying at the moment – Charlie, did you drink that whole bottle by yourself?" she asked, catching sight of the empty bottle on the countertop and the vestiges of wine in his glass. She sighed and clucked her tongue, then shook her head and smiled. "You dear, sweet man."

"How is being a lush sweet?" he asked with a small groan. His head was beginning to ache.

"You were worried about me."

"Of course I worry about you," he sighed patiently as if explaining it to a small child. "You are my wife and I think I am entitled –"

She cut off his words with a tender kiss. "You are very much entitled, Mr. Carson," she whispered against his lips. "Ever so much so."

"So you aren't cross about the wine?"

She shook her head and laughed. "Not today, darling – not today. Where are the girls?"

"Susan is taking a nap," he said, "and Gwen's gone out with Sybil. I think they'll be back shortly."

"And dinner?"

"Beryl sent something over – she didn't think you'd want to try to cook tonight, and I've not got the graces to do it myself, either."

She smiled then, a wide, happy smile. "Well, then – we're set."

She turned on her heel and went to the wine rack to get another bottle. He watched her move confidently around their kitchen, and he felt a rather inappropriate stirring of his loins that – obviously – stemmed from relief and too much alcohol at once. "Els," he groaned, "could you please try not to wiggle like that when you walk?"

She arched a brow in his direction with a smirk on her lips. "Really, Charlie, feeling a bit feisty after a few days of your hand as a companion?"

"And what if Susan hears you?"

"Oh, so what if she does? It's not every day you find out that you're bloody well not dying from cancer," Elsie sighed in exasperation. "Y'old booby."

"It isn't cancer, then, but it is a lump –"

"And I'll be having a procedure to remove it, and what breast tissue I've got left in about a fortnight," she said firmly. "Until then, I'm very happy to pretend it doesn't exist. I went shopping," she added. "There's a few shops what cater to mastectomy patients – I can even get knitted boobs to put in a bra to make it look like I've not failed to get out of puberty." She chuckled and said, "I think I'm glad you're not entirely a breast man, or you'd go off me completely in a few weeks." Her smile faltered and she poured herself a large helping of white wine. After swishing it around, then taking a sip, she murmured, "You aren't going to go off me, are you? Because I won't have my –"

"Elspeth," he said with all the gravity he could muster, "your breasts are not why I fell in love with you, and they are not why I married you. They do not signify."

"I'm just… afraid I'll somehow be less of a woman to you after –"

"What utter twaddle," he muttered, reaching past her for the wine. He poured himself another hefty helping, ignoring her raised eyebrow. "You don't seem to grasp that I don't give two shakes about your tits and whether they're on your person or not. I am madly, hopelessly in love with you, Els, and I would like it very much if you would stop inferring that I only want to fuck you if you have breasts, because I'm finding it very difficult right now not to bend you over the table and give you whatfor."

She stared at him, wide eyed, open mouthed, speechless. He'd never made his intentions so clear before, for fear of shocking her with the utter force of his love, his need, his desire for her. It wasn't appropriate to speak so plainly in public, and he was nothing if not polite in company. But this wasn't company, and he was rather… in his cups already. He'd been waiting all day to hear the absolute worst and she'd shocked him with the best possible news – and now… Now, all of his anxiety was manifest differently. He was no longer the proper Mr. Carson everyone expected. He was some dark, wild creature that needed reassurance and taming at her gentle hand.

Good lord, what must she think of him?

He watched her carefully for any sign that she was going to shy away from him and walk away, but instead, she surprised him by drinking her wine, then murmuring, "If it's so difficult for you, Charlie, why even are you resisting it?"

"Because Susan is upstairs and Gwen will be home any moment –"

A patient smile was on her lips, and she said, "And your point is… what, exactly?"

Charles exhaled weakly, then said, "And I don't want to overwhelm you."

"You might surprise me but you'll not overwhelm me," she promised softly. "I didn't know you liked it when I scratch your back till I did it, after all –"

His pants were incredibly tight all of a sudden. "Love," he choked out.

She knew, the little vixen, and she was going to play it for all it was worth. He groaned as she stroked him through the cloth of his trousers, then surrendered the point entirely. She was a woman grown and she knew the consequences, just as he did.

"Do you want to go upstairs?" she purred.

"Might be a good idea with my knees," he said, lightheaded from her touch – and the wine – already.

"Come on, then," Elsie insisted cheerfully.

He left the wine behind and followed her like a puppy, watching her every move, wondering how she could be so confident in herself and her ability to make them both happy. He caught her wrist just before they turned into their room, and pulled her back to him for a kiss that left no illusions that this was far more than just a shag. It meant something; it meant everything.

She smiled and whispered, "Hey, now, I thought you wanted to be in our room before we started –"

He pushed her through, slammed the door, and pressed her against it, giving in to the urges he kept simmering below the surface always. He kissed her hard, giving and taking everything she offered and more; her leg came up, hooking around his thighs, keeping his lower body pressed against hers, despite the layers of clothes between them. She broke the kiss and panted, "Charlie, you don't have to prove anything to me – I'm here and I love you no matter what. Ye ken?"

"I've been a fool, a damn fool – pining away for my job when you were sick and could've been dying for all we knew and –"

"Charlie," she whispered, kissing him gently. "That's not important right now. All that's important is that you know that you were wrong and I'm not dying – unless it's from want of you fucking me already."

"If I were ten years younger, I'd carry you to bed –"

"If I were ten years younger, I'd let you," she teased, lowering her leg and releasing him, the intense moment broken into something far more comfortable. He watched her intently as she took off pieces of her clothing – her cardigan, her shirt, her shoes – each bit disappearing onto the floor and leaving her a bit more exposed until all that were left were her bra and knickers. Meanwhile, he was down to his trunks and feeling a bit of blessed relief, though he was still restrained.

Elsie smiled at him; it wasn't coy nor seductive, it was the smile of a shy girl who knew she was on parade for only one person. "You're very eager."

"I am," he agreed, knowing that if he protested or countered her in any way, it would go on endlessly, and all he wanted was to get past this awkward bit where they weren't touching. His skin fairly itched from wanting her, and he closed his eyes, trying to calm his erratic breathing.

Her gentle fingertips on his chest made him open his eyes again. "I love you, Charlie," Elsie whispered. "You and your overeager partner there."

Anything he might have said was lost when she pushed down his trunks and took him firmly in hand. He didn't count the seconds, the moments, but he gave in completely to her. Burning pleasure ignited between them, each giving and taking in response to the other's needs. He sank deeply into her with a harsh, guttural sound of pure bliss that made him almost ashamed – until he realized that she was so close to the edge of madness she was biting her lip, making tiny squeaking noises as she began to spasm around him, her face and neck and chest flushing a deep scarlet pink. He rocked his hips slightly, pressing harder against her pubic bone and her clitoris, and her nails dug into his back as she cried out her orgasm.

He gave her no time to recover; harder, faster he moved, dragging her right back to the precipice in moments, feeling as though he had everything to prove to her – nothing would change his feelings for her, the intensity with which he loved her. Nothing.

She bit his shoulder, trying to stifle her gasping cries of pleasure, and he lost himself in the scent, the feel of her – she was home, and he was a fool if he'd ever thought otherwise. He was very hot, sticky, and dizzy when he finally found the strength to stop squashing her with his bulk.

Elsie, for her part, was eyeing him like the cat who got all the cream to herself. "Hello, you," she breathed, reaching over and teasingly tugging on the curly, sweaty lock of hair that was resting on his forehead. "That was very…"

"Nice," he supplied. She shook her head. "Intense?" She just kept shaking her head with each of his suggestions. "Sexy? Powerful? God, Elsie, you're deflating a man's ego over here –"

"Charlie, when I thought I might be headed to the grave, the only thing in the world I'd miss more than my coffee is you," she said very quietly. "I'm not used to – to feeling so much at once. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you now." After a heavy moment of silence, Elsie added, "And god knows, it's never been like that, even for us – it was like coming home after a long time away."

He smiled and pulled her close beneath the duvet, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I know just how you feel, Els," he said quietly.

* * *

"I think you should take Mary up on her offer," Elsie murmured sleepily later that night, her face tucked into the solidly warm bulk of her husband's chest. "It's not fair of me to keep you here against your will, locked away like a princess in a tower, in need of saving."

He laughed, and she smiled at the way it rumbled through him like an unstoppable tide. They were both warm and drowsy from all the wine and food and celebrating, and not feeling the same intense urges as earlier. Now it was more comfortable, more indulgent, more usual, lying skin to skin beneath the covers and deriving comfort and bliss from it.

"I am not a princess and I don't need saving," he said. "And I don't want to go back to work."

"A few weeks ago –"

"A few weeks ago, I was wrong," he said firmly. "If I need to work, set me to work in your shop. I'm good at fetching and carrying, and only require payment in coffee… and sex."

She giggled and kissed his chest. "I see – cheap slave labor, then," Elsie teased, tickling him a little beneath the ribs. He squirmed and she smiled. "What will you tell Mary?"

"That I'm needed at home," he said simply. "That pleasing my wife is a full time job –"

She sighed and shook her head, pretending to get in a strop and flipping over so her back was to him. It only took a couple of moments for him to realize what she'd done, and his hand descended onto her buttocks, kneading and caressing it. She moaned softly, pressing back against the solid bulk of him. It wasn't very long before he was rocking into her in smooth, even motions, holding her close as they both could stand it. His fingers between her legs, their feet tangled together, his breath hot in her ear as he curled them tighter and tighter together.

She shattered, her body and mind coming absolutely apart with the intensity of her pleasure. She heard the words spilling from her lips – a litany of, "Fuck, Charlie – _god_ , _ **fuck**_ – _FUCK_ –" as she flew straight into the abyss and came out the other side, breath ragged and lungs heaving for air she couldn't seem to inhale. And through it all, him.

Charlie, her Charlie, sturdy and kind and such a grumpy old man – but one she loved so dearly.

"You okay?" he asked after they both stilled into restful repose again.

"Never better," she murmured. And, for once, it was the absolute truth.


End file.
